


The Prince and His Protector

by conboimckinky



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2Doc AU, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of abuse/child abuse, Multi, Some angst, descriptions of violence, gorillaz au, murdoc's kind of his own warning except this time he's required to be heavily armed too, royal au, some (eventual) fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-04 23:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conboimckinky/pseuds/conboimckinky
Summary: ~ A 2Doc Fantasy AU, created by 'alexapplesauce278' on Instagram, who makes amazing art for this and other things~-Stuart Pot was destined to rule his kingdom, it was written in the stars, with Murdoc Niccals by his side as his trusty bodyguard. He was the best in the land. The best for the best, the King had insisted.But when Stuart's life is threatened, and Murdoc fails to save him completely, the tables turn- the Prince becomes the hero for a second.What Murdoc wants to know is, why? Why does Stuart Pot save him?





	1. Chapter 1

Murdoc hated his job.  
Well, strictly speaking- that wasn't very true. He loved his job. He'd been groomed for it since he was young. It was his destiny, as far as he'd been told, to protect Prince Stuart. The prince was a national treasure, and it was an honour to be the one to keep him from any harm.  
Of course, Murdoc agreed.  
There was just some parts he liked more than others.  
For example, he much preferred being able to push citizens over when they left the castle compared to standing to attention behind the prince's seat at the breakfast table.  
But beggars can't be choosers, his father said.  
"Stuart, eat with your mouth closed, please," the Queen instructed from the end of the table.  
Prince Stuart gulped his mouthful down and Murdoc rolled his eyes. It was ridiculous that the prince had to have impeccable manners all the time, even at a family breakfast.  
The equerry entered, standing at the side of the King, waiting to be addressed. At least Murdoc was close enough that the family accepted he could be outspoken. They disapproved, but he did his job, and that was enough for them.  
"Yes, Julian?" The King asked, putting his fork down.  
"I'm here with Prince Stuart's engagements, your highness," he informed,-ridiculously chipper for 6 am, Murdoc thought- "He has an arranged visit at Lord Gavin's new ballroom opening. You have also been invited, but you have a meeting with Sir Henry from the next kingdom."  
Murdoc heard the prince exhale through his nose. He knew he disliked the opening events, but would never say so. Murdoc might have, but he'd been trapped in the castle for the last three days and was desperate to neck a few pints and make fun of some other royal twits.  
"Excellent. Let him know Stuart will attended, as will Niccals by his side."  
Julian nodded and bowed, and Murdoc almost gagged. His colleagues were such suck ups, it made him sick. He respected the Family, and accepted his place amount them, but he refused to kiss anybody's ass. It was humiliating, he thought, as Julian closed the door again.  
"Do I have to go?" The prince asked, groaning. He placed his fork on the table and rubbed his temples. Murdoc recognised it as an early sign of one of his headaches, and made a mental note to check he had his medication on him.  
"Yes, dear, of course you do," his mother said gently.  
Murdoc liked the queen. Stuart was very similar to her. They were both soft-spoken, gentle, and uncharacteristically kind. Their eyes were the same, too- full of questions. Murdoc guessed the prince had inherited his genuine curiosity from his mother. They spent hours in the castles library together, even though Murdoc knew that the prince struggled to read lengthy books. He would stand and lean against the door, watch them sit on the bearskin rug by the fire, and listen to the queen as she read to her son. It seemed to him that they were the most humble people in the castle. Watching them together stung him a little, though- he had never met his own mother.  
But Murdoc didn't like to dwell on the past.  
"What time is it?" Stuart asked.  
"Two hours, apparently."  
"Better get a move on, then," Murdoc said, straightening. "Can't be late."  
A ballroom opening meant alcohol, and Murdoc was not opposed to drinking on the job. Stuart pretended not to notice most days. He would have preferred it if the prince had never noticed, but he wasn't that unobservant, unfortunately.  
With a sigh, the prince stood up and nodded. He walked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, sometimes, and it made Murdoc's insides twist. He followed him out of the room, closing the door before he spoke.  
"You really don't want to go- you're doing the thing," Murdoc pointed out.  
"What thing?" The prince asked with a frown.  
"That," he said, pointing to how Stuart had his sleeve in his fist and was twisting the fabric.  
The prince sighed and let go. His arm fell to his side, lanky and limp. Murdoc nodded.  
"You're right," he agreed, "I really don't want to go."  
"Unfortunately, you must, dearest prince," Murdoc replied, grinning.  
"You know, I've told you I don't like being called that," Stuart complained, dragging his hands back through his bright blue hair.  
"And I also know that you've been told to stop doing that to you head. Have you taken your medicine today?"  
They reached the stairs to Stuart's tower. He got the biggest bedroom in the castle. Right at the top of the left wing tower. The room itself was large and circular, with one large window, and Stuart loved it.  
"No," admitted the prince. "I didn't have time- woke up late."  
Murdoc grumbled something as he opened the door, checking ahead for any intruders. It had become a habit to check rooms.  
"There won't be anyone in here, you're being silly," Stuart said, sliding past. He sat on his bed with another sigh. Murdoc had counted seven sighs since he met him at the bottom of the staircase that morning.  
"You can never be too careful," Murdoc corrected, "it's my job."  
The prince laughed softly, and stood up. Even from his place near the door, he could see that Stuart was about to trip over the leg of his wooden chair. Murdoc jumped forward and pushed it in the opposite direction. The prince wobbled, but stayed on his feet.  
"Thank you," Stuart said, laughing softly at himself.  
Murdoc hated it when he did that. It made him feel sick.  
"Yeah, whatever. It's my job."  
"You say that a lot."  
Murdoc only shrugged. He watched the prince move around his room, delicately shifting his things. Two whittled horse figures, four rock crystals, and several pencils. A whole wooden rack of fabric woven bracelets. The prince made loads of them. He'd given Murdoc one, once, for his 21st birthday. It was blue and green, and Murdoc had intended to wear it forever.  
Someone snatched it from his wrist during a fight. He's gutted them on the spot, but then the fabric had been dyed ugly red. Murdoc hadn't worn one since.  
"The trip is about an hour and twenty minutes," the prince informed him, oblivious to his gaze. He cleared his throat.  
"I know. Which means we have to leave soon."  
The banging on the door made Stuart jump and Murdoc's hand fly to his sheath.  
"It's only me, your highness," called Julian from the other side of the thick oak wood.  
Murdoc opened the door and glared at him.  
"The King requests you leave now, showing up early is polite, dearest prince."  
Stuart nodded, and the bodyguard hid a snicker. "Very well, is the carriage ready?"  
"Of course, sir."  
Stuart nodded again. Murdoc thought the whole interaction ridiculous. What was the point of all the courtesy? It just sounded stupid. Stuart may have been a prince, but he was still just a 23 year old man.  
"We'll be down shortly," Murdoc cut in, waving dismissively.  
Julian rolled his eyes. The rest of the castles staff despised him (aside from the lady-in-waiting, Clementine; she had a particular infatuation with him, but he never developed it very far), which was fair, Murdoc supposed. He was closer with the Family than anyone. He had the most lenience, as long as Stuart walked down the stairs without tripping.  
"He doesn't like you very much, does he?" Stuart said, re-tying the laces on the tops of his boots.  
Murdoc shrugged.  
"Well, I don't like him. I don't like any of them, actually."  
"That's not a very good attitude to have. You'll have no one to talk to when you're off duty."  
Stuart's voice was laced with pity, and Murdoc didn't appreciate it.  
"Have you ever seen me off duty?" He questioned, irritated.  
"No," the prince pouted, "I'll have to fix that."  
"Don't," Murdoc said quickly. "Don't. I like working."  
"Surely you have better things to do than stop be tripping over sodding chairs."  
That made him smile. Stuart only swore when they were alone, and common slang was rarer.  
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Murdoc replied with a laugh. "My only other plans include getting smashed, but I can do that during my hours anyway."  
The prince frowned, his nose crinkling up in distaste.  
"Well, okay," he said, standing straighter. "We'd better get going."  
Murdoc just grunted in agreement. The energy in the room had shifted, and he hated it. He walked two steps ahead of the prince, in silence, so that he could catch him if he fell.  
"You forgot this," Murdoc said when they reached the bottom, opening his fist to reveal the princes tiny bottle of medicine.  
"Thank you."  
"Yeah, whatever. Just my job."  
They walked to the carriages in silence.  
Or rather, Prince Stuart kept asking him questions, and he would just grunt.  
-  
The trip was also done in silence, which Stuart found incredibly uncomfortable. He fidgeted like he had insects in his underwear. The small gap between his curtains offered little more than block colours. He couldn't see much.  
Sometimes, he felt Murdoc looking at him- staring. He did it often. Stuart supposed it was, like he said, just his job.  
Just him job to spend time with him.  
Although he liked to think that they were friends. They spent a lot of their time together. They always had. Murdoc had been hired when Stuart was 11 and started leaving the castle by himself. Murdoc was 15. He had the terrifying intensity of an adult, even then, even though he was still a child himself. He looked at the world as if it owed him nothing and he didn't trust it. He had the same confident stride still, and the same small knife that he used as a warning. The only difference was the ink all over his skin.  
Stuart knew he had a bad childhood, but Murdoc had never talked about it and he had never asked.  
He dreaded the ballroom ceremony. It would be full of other royal member his age. He knew his father had sent him alone in the hopes that he would find a suitable bride, but Stuart thought it more likely that he would grow an extra head.  
"We've arrived, dearest prince," the equerry informed them from the front seat.  
Murdoc started to shift around, muttering as he counted his weapons. Stuart had seen it almost every day. Pocket knife. Two sheathed blades at his hips. One in his left boot. Heavy iron sword strapped to his back. Three more covered blades strapped to his left thigh. One small tube of poison.  
He was missing a thigh blade, but his nod told Stuart it was a personal choice. Maybe to make moving around easier. He had never understood why his guard had to be so heavily armed.  
He remembered the time Stuart begged to go into the woods on the edge of the castles grounds, and Murdoc had had to be armed with a bow and arrow. The bow was the size of his wooden rocking horse. It terrified him.  
It suited Murdoc.  
Stuart slid out of his seat, Murdoc close behind, and waved to a few subjects in passing. The faces people made when they saw him were hilarious. He could hear Murdoc snickering behind him.  
"They're all utterly star struck, dearest prince," he whispered.  
Stuart ignored him, striding forward.  
A woman awaited them at the door. She was a head shorter than he, and dressed in bright red. It suited her pale skin and her choppy black hair, Stuart thought.  
She was rather striking. He smiled at her- a real smile, not a rehearsed Royal smile.  
She smiled back. He felt his insides twist, and heat in the back of his neck.  
"Greetings, your highness," said the woman, her voice soft and thick, like sweet honey. "I'm Lady Paula, a cousin to princess Penelope."  
-  
Murdoc didn't trust the woman at the doors.  
Her smile was too wide for her face, and her dress wasn't the same plus material as the other ladies there. Her accent was forced- as was the softness of her words- judging by the tension in her throat when she greeted the prince.  
But Stuart was obviously infatuated. Murdoc frowned, holding his arms behind him. The woman- Paula- caught his gaze. Her eyes gave her away. You couldn't make your eyes royal. Every single royal person he had met had soft eyes, full of the sparkle of being well fed and cleaned. Common people saw differently. Their eyes screamed of poverty. Paula had the eyes of a criminal, and Murdoc recognised them, because he knew he did, too.  
His nose wrinkled in distrust as he watched Stuart kiss the top of her hand.  
"This way, gentlemen," she said, turning away and walking ahead.  
She didn't walk like a royal, either. Her steps were awkward, and she kept having to adjust the back of her dress.  
"I don't trust her," Murdoc whispered as soon as he was sure she wouldn't hear.  
"Don't be silly," the prince replied flippantly, "she's gorgeous."  
He snorted. She was anything but.  
"I'm telling you, I don't trust her."  
-  
Stuart disliked it when Murdoc got defensive. He didn't trust anyone, he wanted to point out. But he didn't want to stand and argue with his bodyguard.  
He wanted to follow beautiful Lady Paula.  
And he was proven right. An hour later, when the ribbon had been cut by the hose- Henry- Paula was still being polite. They stood against the left wall. Stuart had chosen a gently sparkling white wine, and the Lady held a glass of dark red.  
"I've never seen you at gatherings before," he noted out loud.  
"I don't come to many," she explained, leaning in close to be heard over the other conversations.  
Murdoc was stood by the doors, like always. He was watching Stuart with his disapproving face- a crinkled nose, narrowed eyes, and folded arms. Like always.  
"I'm only here because I'm staying with my cousin," Paula added.  
"You're cousin is a lovely girl," Stuart replied. "But I believe you're lovelier."  
He was proud of her smile.  
He was doing it. He had found a beautiful woman, and he was having a conversation with her. She was smiling, and leaning close to him with her long fingers wrapped around his forearm.  
And then she was leaning closer.  
Until, Stuart realised, she was pulling him towards her.  
"Follow me. I saw this place being built, I know where there's a private room."  
Stuart gulped, but nodded, feeling her pulling him to the ground. A private room? Whatever for, he wondered- although he suspected Murdoc would make a crude suggestion if he dared to asked. He scanned the room.  
He seemed to be chatting the someone dressed the same way he was, although with less blades. He was smirking. Maybe he was having a good time. Stuart was pleased for him.  
Paula hurried him along a corridor in silence. He felt his legs go numb as he tried to keep up. She was strong enough that he didn't fall, though. The sounds of the ceremony seemed miles away.  
She stopped suddenly. Stuart nearly crashed straight into her back, but managed to stop himself. She turned to him.  
"This seems okay," Paula whispered, backing up against a wall. She beckoned Stuart closer.  
"What are we doing here?" He asked as he stood over he.  
She grabbed his collar, pulling him close to her face. He felt butterflies in his stomach- like he did when he saw Murdoc armed with a bow for the first time. He suspected these ones meant good things.  
He didn't see the black blade between her fist until seconds later.  
Her smile had twisted. It was evil now, the kind of smile that Stuart saw on the clowns in his nightmares. He felt himself grow cold. He moved to step back, but her grip was tight.  
Stuart didn't feel anything when the sharp blade punctured his eyes, but seconds later, searing pain gripped him like a viper. He fell backwards, holding his left eye.  
A single scream penetrated the thick pain.  
"MURDOC!"  
And then Stuart could only see black.


	2. Chapter 2

Murdoc always thought it was bullshit, when people wrote pivotal moments in slow motion. By all real logic, it wasn't possible- the world didn't slow down when someone was dying. It continued to spin at its usual rate. There was no special treatment from the universe when someone was hurt.  
But, God, were the novels right.  
Murdoc saw the blade seconds before Stuart did. It caught in the light of the surrounding wall-mounted torches, glinting in a familiar way that made him sick to his stomach. He lunged forward, even though he knew he was too late. His legs wouldn't move fast enough. Stuart's eyes widened, and Paula drove the blade into his face. Murdoc couldn't see where it landed, but her arm moved slowly, drawing it out until he could feel the pain in his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stood to attention. All he could do was watch, and run towards the scene.  
The desperate scream of his name brought real time back. It crushed him, and he felt himself let out a strangled cry of desperation as he slid across the floor.  
He knew Paula was a fake. She cackled, and Murdoc managed to catch Stuart before he hit the ground. The blade was wedged in his eye. Murdoc wretched and laid his head on the ground. The prince had given in to the pain and passed out, but he was still breathing.  
Murdoc had very little moral compass, so drew his sword and stood up straight. He glared at Paula from underneath his fringe, breathing heavily, and swung at her. He aimed for her hand and intended not to miss. It was her throat next, Murdoc promised himself.  
Guilt powered him, in that moment. Usually it was anger, or basic obligation, but he heard Stuart grown softly on the ground and the guilt was so real he could taste it. It felt like thick jelly in his throat.  
He missed her hand.  
She jumped backwards, and then to the side, searching Stuart's body for gold, Murdoc suspected. He stood behind her and raised the sword. Cutting off her head seemed like the right thing to do.  
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," someone said to the right of him.  
Sword still raised, Murdoc turned his head, and recognised the guy he was chatting with earlier about being a bodyguard.  
"You-" Murdoc choked out, the sword sliding in his grip.  
Paula had stood up empty handed. She had ripped the blade from Stuart's eye, but he was too out of it to react further than a small groan. The guy, whose name Murdoc never caught, put his arm around Paula's middle.  
"He's got nuthin' on 'im," she told him, as Murdoc returned his sword to his sheath and collapsed at Stuart's head. He noticed the change in her accent.  
He should have reacted sooner.  
"Pitiful," said the guy, "you're a bit of a shit bodyguard, aren't ya? Don't quit your day job."  
They laughed, and Murdoc felt fire in his stomach. He stopped trying to shake Stuart from his unconscious state and flew at the pair instead. He managed to floor them both, throwing his full weight on them, but he felt Paula stab his side before he saw the blood.  
"Fucker!" He yelled, dragging himself up, and back over to Stuart.  
There was too much blood. All over his gloves as he held his wound. Thick in Stuart's hair. It dyed it the same ugly red as the bracelet he'd given him. Murdoc heaved again.  
He started vomiting food he hadn't eaten, and Paula cackled. It sounded like nails on a chalk board. The guy mumbled something, and Murdoc didn't look to see where they were going.  
Instead, he dragged himself up, wiped his mouth, and let his emotions out in one sob.  
Then, Murdoc straightened, the physical pain not being the issue.  
No, the issue was the prince- who was coming to, and could only see half the world.  
-  
Stuart couldn't remember a lot of it.  
But he woke up, and felt so much panic it was unbearable. Something was covering his eyes. He tried to pull at it.  
"It's bandaged, dearest prince," someone to his left informed him.  
He recognised the voice to be his nurse. Stuart couldn't see her.  
"Am I blind? Am I going to be blind? I can't see!"  
"Well, you have a bandage around your head so you can't see anyway but..." She paused, and Stuart felt sick. "Your sight won't return to the wounded eye, sir. I'm so sorry."  
Stuart sniffed, then nodded slowly. Great. Blind in one eye. Fantastic.  
And he felt betrayed. Paula had been nice to him. Why would she do that? It made no sense.  
That wasn't what he asked.  
"Where's Murdoc?"  
"He was called to the throne room after we patched him up."  
"My parents?"  
"Yes."  
-  
When Murdoc returned to Stuart's room, he was throwing things into two big rucksacks on his bed. He stood in the doorway for a minute with his arms folded.  
Watching him move hurt. He was clearly disoriented. Knowing that was his fault crippled him, so he was thankful that he could lean against the threshold for support.  
A blind monarch.  
What had he done?  
"What are you doing?" Murdoc asked, his voice softer than usual.  
Defeat tasted like ash.  
"Murdoc!" Stuart yelped. He ran at him, and Murdoc felt his whole body tense up as it did before an attack.  
And then he was knocked over by a crushing hug. Stuart's knee dug into his wound, but he didn't care. For a brief second, Murdoc buried his chin in the prince's hair and felt a sob catch at the back of his throat. They never hugged before. Murdoc could feel his whole body relex, the tension of an anticipated attack melting as he felt Stuart grab a fistful of his bloodied shirt. The prince pressed his head into Murdoc's neck and started babbling nonsense.  
"I'm so glad you're alive still. It means I started in time. We have to get out of here. Now. I got my bandages remove early an-"  
Stuart rambled on as Murdoc untangled their limbs. As much as he would have liked to, they couldn't stay like that forever. Murdoc had to say goodbye. Stuart's parents had sentenced him to death, and rightly so. But saying goodbye made his palms sweat. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears- like a drum powered by fear. It wasn't the death he was afraid of- it was leaving Stuart. It was his duty to look after him- to keep him from any harm. Without him, Murdoc had no purpose at all. Even if he was shown some mercy, his father would finish the job out of shame. He'd deserve it either way.  
Murdoc straightened, pulling the prince up to do the same. He felt nauseous. The hug had shaken him. He couldn't concentrate on the prince's words.  
He grabbed his shoulders, both to steady himself and to get Stuart's attention.  
"Slow down- why are we leaving?"  
"Because, we have to."  
"Why?"  
"What did my parents say?"  
Murdoc felt like he was about to be sick. He'd come up to say his goodbye's to the prince, and the words were still lodged in his throat. He stared at the ground.  
To be fair, he deserved it. The contract had been clear at 15. If Stuart was harmed while under his protection, he was to be killed. It made no difference to him. He knew it was the consequence. At least, if he was hung for it, he'd be released from the guilt. Hell sounded cozy.  
"They said I'm going to hang," Murdoc told him, fighting to keep his voice steady and emotionless.  
The fear in Stuart's eye (the other hidden by his fringe) was so real that it felt as if he was being stabbed again. What was he afraid of? Murdoc had failed his only purpose.  
"No!"  
"Yes, it was clear on the contract that my father signed-"  
"No, Murdoc, we're leaving. Now."  
Stuart turned back to the bags, and it clicked. He was packing them bags to run away.  
"No. I knew it was coming, and it's what I deserve for failing to-"  
"THEY'RE GOING TO KILL YOU, MURDOC!"  
Murdoc flinched. Stuart rarely ever yelled, and he couldn't remember if he had ever shouted at him like that. He'd gripped Murdoc's shoulder and shook him with so much desperation it broke his heart.  
Murdoc shoved him backwards. What was the point in worrying about hurting him now?  
"So what? I was MADE to die for you!" Murdoc shouted back, throwing his hands in Stuart's face.  
The prince didn't even flinch. He looked as if he might cry, and Murdoc added that to the list of times he had hurt Stuart.  
In response, Stuart grabbed Murdoc's wrist. He slung the two bags over his free shoulder, and started dragging Murdoc out of the room.  
"Stuart, if they catch you helping me, they'll-"  
"Good job I'm coming with you, then?"  
"You are not!"  
Three steps down, Murdoc managed to pull them to a halt.  
"You aren't coming WITH me. I shouldn't even BE going! You'll be in so much trouble-"  
"I'm not leaving you, I'm coming and that's final."  
Six more steps. They reached the bottom. Murdoc used his free hand to stop the prince and twist him to face him.  
"Stuart, you aren't coming with me."  
"Murdoc, I'm not leaving you."  
He sounded so sure of himself, Murdoc felt his insides crumble. He stayed silent as Stuart led them to the library, to the secret passage that only he, his mother, and Murdoc knew existed. The tunnel was long and cold, and the only sounds were the tapping of Stuart's heeled boots against the floor and Murdoc's heartbeat in his ears. The prince had always been faster than him. He was blessed with long legs, although he had the grace of a newborn deer. The tunnel was dark- no torches lined the wall. It was built for evacuation from any enemy attacks, which Murdoc thought to be ironic. It took them right out into the woods on the edge of the grounds. Murdoc felt like he was going to throw up again, but Stuart kept marching. He could hear Julian at the alarm in the castle. The alarm for escaped criminals and assassination attempts. It occurred to him that the staff would suspect that Murdoc had taken the prince away to harm him. There would be kings-men out for his blood in seconds.  
"Stuart, we have to run. Give me the bags and let go and run until we can't see your tower," Murdoc pleaded, tugging at the bags on the prince's back.  
Stuart just nodded, slid them off, and legged it.  
Murdoc paused. He turned around to face the entrance they had forced. He could see the castle. It would be easy to turn himself in. Leave Stuart running around, half-blind, in the vegetation and go down for his crimes as a (kind of) honest man.  
Then, he saw the prince's blue hair flash in the setting sun, and decided he much preferred to run through the forest with him.  
If only to find out why Stuart had been so desperate to save him.


	3. Chapter 3

Stuart had never been in the wood's without Murdoc having his bow and arrow.   
He ran until the siren faded. Until his legs went numb. Until he could see nothing but blurred browns and greens. Until everything melted and it was just him, his heartbeat, and the blood he could taste.  
A tree root finally stopped him. He crashed to the ground, landing face-first in the soft moss. His head ached.   
Murdoc almost tripped over his legs, but managed to stay up- ever the graceful one.  
"Fuck! Prince, are you okay?" Murdoc asked, dropping to his knees beside him. "I can't even save you from a fuckin' oak tree."   
The defeat in his voice brought tears to Stuart's eyes. It stung the blind one- thinking about that felt odd. The blind one.   
A blind, runaway monarch.  
Stuart lifted his head and grimaced. A headache was coming on, and he could taste moss, but he was okay. He heard Murdoc sigh in relief.  
"My legs are numb, can you help me up?" Stuart asked quietly. His bodyguard had his head in his hands, a fist curled in his black hair. He lifted his head up, and Stuart could see the pain in his frown.  
"Of course," Murdoc said, clearly forcing his voice steady.   
Stuart watched him stand and brush himself off. There was blood up his torso, and it seemed to be spreading. The prince frowned. He couldn't remember whether Murdoc was injured, but it seemed serious. He flinched when he dusted moss off the fabric, then offered Stuart his hand. After a grunt, he was back on his feet.  
"What happened to your side?" He asked, reaching forward to pull the tight black shirt up and see.   
"Nothing!" Murdoc jumped back as if Stuart had just pulled a knife out on him.   
The prince frowned. He stepped forward, into Murdoc's personal space. He could see the panic in the lines of his frown.  
"What is it? Were you hurt? I can't really remember," he said, "let me see."  
Once again, his hand was tapped away. Murdoc wrapped his arm around himself to hide it.   
"No. Leave it. I'm fine."   
"Are you sure?"   
Stuart waited for a reply, but Murdoc wandered ahead. He sat down heavily on a fallen, hollowed tree trunk. It groaned under his weight. Stuart sat, pensive, next to him.  
"I'm sure."  
"Okay."  
-  
Murdoc knew that Stuart was trying to help. It was all the prince ever did for him. He wanted to ask why the hell he had been so insistent on saving him, but the words wouldn't move past the tip of his tongue. Instead, he focused on his irritation.  
There they were. They had escaped.   
But the sun was setting, and it was darker underneath the woodland canopy.   
"What's your plan?" Murdoc snapped, the silence becoming too much.  
"My plan?"  
"Yes, dearest prince, your plan. You were the one who legged it into the forest."  
"I was helping you-"  
"I told you not to."  
Murdoc hated himself for snapping, for biting back his replies, but he couldn't have dealt with it any other way.  
"Are you mad I saved you?" Stuart asked, his voice soft.   
"Yes!" Murdoc snapped again. He stood up, arms above his head in supposed exasperation.   
The prince frowned and slid to the end of the log. Murdoc grew antsy and began pacing in tight circles. He watched as his boot print was cemented in the dirt.  
"Why?"   
"Because I deserved it! I deserved what was coming for me! My father signed the contract when I was 15 and it stated that I was to be hung if you came to any harm under my protection, and you did!" Murdoc ranted, still pacing in circles. His hands were curled into fists but he could still feel them shaking. "I got distracted, and now you're fuckin' blind! I deserve to swing for that!"   
Stuart got to his feet and stood above Murdoc, interrupting his twenty third circuit. The prince frowned. Murdoc envied how he looked regal even with a frown- he looked like his father.   
"Shut up."  
"Excuse me?" Murdoc asked.  
"I said, shut up. You're being ungrateful and stupid. It's not your fault I got stabbed. It's mine. You told me that you thought Paula was dangerous, and I didn't listen," Stuart explained. He wondered how the prince sounded calm, despite the clear panic in his face.  
"What!? No! I was supposed to be watching you, Stuart! I've done nothing but train to protect you since I turned six, and I failed! I had one fuckin' job and-"  
Murdoc had begun to wave his arms about as his volume rose. The prince grabbed them in mid air. His grip was uncomfortably tight, Murdoc thought.   
"Listen to me, Niccals," the prince demanded. Murdoc's mouth closed automatically. "It wasn't your fault. Are you listening? It's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped her. It's not your fault."   
Murdoc fell forward, pressing his forehead into the prince's shoulder. He could feel the exhaustion in his bones. He wanted to curl up on the floor and punch himself black and blue.   
He settled for Stuart's three gentle back rubs, and then forced himself to straighten.  
"Okay," Murdoc agreed, quietly. "I don't believe you, but okay. Now we need a plan- what did you bring?"   
The awkwardness of the half-hug still hung in the air, but Stuart smiled softly, and Murdoc felt it disappear. He walked back over to the two bags that he had thrown against the log. Stuart started pulling things out.  
Clothes. Seven books. Two sacks of bread. Murdoc's reading glasses. Headache medicine. An extra sheath. Two blunt daggers. Bandages. A blanket.   
Two fabric bracelets.  
"What the hell are these for?" Murdoc asked, lifting the woven strap up. Stuart just smiled at him.  
"I made them. I figured we could have one each. If not, I can always just undo and redo a longer one- it helps keep me calm, anyway."   
"You're an idiot."  
"That's rude," the prince said dismissively. "You don't have to wear it."  
Murdoc had already tied it around his wrist. He tossed the other one to Stuart and tried to convince himself that the smile he received in return was worth it.  
"This is it," the prince concluded, pointing to the pile of items.  
For someone who had never had to worry about his own survival, he had packed well for it, Murdoc thought.  
"Okay. The tunnel we took leads us out to the east forest- the one that separates us and the next kingdom over," Murdoc explained. He crouched down in the dirt, grabbed a stick, and started to scratch a map out. "It's at least a week on foot. It's the thickest forest for miles."  
"So we're going to the next kingdom?"   
"Probably not. They'll have been notified."  
Stuart bent down next to him. He traced the dirt trails with his finger.  
"Where are we going to go?"  
"Well, uh." Murdoc frowned, pressing his knuckles into his eyes. "There's another strip of woods just behind the palace there. It takes us to the coast. There's a small town there that doesn't get involved with royal business so long as they can keep fishing."  
"How do you know so much?"  
Murdoc didn't want to tell him it was his home. He didn't want to tell the prince that he'd spent his brief childhood running through the woods and building make-believe houses to escape his real one. He didn't want to tell Stuart that he came from the small fishing village- that he came from nothing.  
So Murdoc shrugged.  
"I just do. We can go there, for a few days, and then you'll have to make the journey back by yourself-"  
Stuart got to his feet, and folded his arms, and Murdoc knew an argument was coming before he even opened his mouth.   
"I'm not coming back."   
"It'll be okay," he replied quietly. "I can stay in the village until the last ship leaves. I can sneak on and-"  
"No."   
The prince glared down at him, and Murdoc realised he hadn't felt so small for years.   
"Fine. Whatever. Cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? But we can stay in the fishing village for a few days, and work from there."  
Stuart seemed to deflate a little. He nodded, and Murdoc felt a pang of pride that he had found an agreeable solution. The prince turned back to the bags and began to repack.  
And then they set off, deeper into the woods, and the sun continued to drop behind the horizon line.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> I'm really glad y'all are enjoying this! I'm on a massive motivated curve right now, so except a load more updates over this week!  
> Comments are ALWAYS appreciated, and only make me want to write more.  
> <3

The forest was a lot darker than his room at night, Stuart realised.  
Murdoc walked in front of him. He kept stopping, too- insisting on checking behind him every ten minutes. Stuart struggled not to trip over him. He'd convinced the bodyguard to let him carry one bag himself, and he had put up less of a fight than he'd been expecting.   
Murdoc just sounded tired.  
Stuart couldn't exactly blame him. He was exhausted himself, and his headache had attacked when they started walking. He'd gulped down some medicine but he knew that it was pointless. The darkness made him panic.  
He played nervously with his fingers, squinting to try and see more than twisted tree trunks that looked like predators. A twig snapped under his boot and he yelped so loudly Murdoc drew his sword.   
"What!?" Murdoc asked, spinning around.   
"Nothing, nothing," the prince breathed. He was shaking, and he wasn't sure if he was cold or just afraid.  
The look on Murdoc's face told him he got the message.  
"You can't be serious?" The bodyguard questioned, sliding his sword back into his sheath with a shake of his head.   
Stuart stared at his feet.  
"You're- are you scared out here? Really?"   
Murdoc laughed, and he felt his cheeks grow hot. How dare he make fun of him? He'd never spent a night outside before.  
"Maybe! I'm allowed to be frightened, Niccals."  
"Of course, dearest baby prince," he teased.   
Stuart's face burned.  
"Shut up! When can we stop? I'm exhausted," he whined, opting to change the subject rather than argue further.  
Murdoc looked offended. Stuart could just about see his face twist like it did before he began a rant, or before he spoke to him like he was an idiot. His eyebrows met in the middle and his forehead wrinkled, his mouth pressed straight and thin. He'd even folded his arms.  
"Stop?" Murdoc asked, and Stuart knew better than to argue. "Really? We can't stop! They'll be looking for us, Stuart! They'll think I've kidnapped you, for crying out loud- we're nowhere near far enough to even think about resting."  
"But my legs hurt," he complained, "I'm not used to journey's this long- not on foot."   
Murdoc looked even more offended.  
Stuart glanced behind instead of at him, and felt his stomach knot in fear. The darkness seemed to be pressing itself around them. He could hear the wind whispering as it swiped past, his hair waving in response. The whole forest seemed to exist in a low hum. The castle felt miles away.  
And Stuart felt homesick.  
Maybe he should have stayed, he thought sorrowfully as they continued walking. Maybe it would have been easier to shove Murdoc down the tunnel and move on.   
But then he would have to lie when they asked where his bodyguard had went, and Stuart had never been very good at lying.  
He toyed with the idea, and toyed with his fingers, staring at the ground.  
"Fine. We'll stop, in about seven minutes- I think I see some bushes that'll hide us. Over there."   
Murdoc pointed to his left, and Stuart could see a small semi-circle of trees that lacked leaves, the circle completed by bushes instead. The stars exposed to the gap seemed to light it up, and he smiled in relief before he realised Murdoc had already started marching toward it. He followed, hoping he wouldn't trip.  
-  
Murdoc could see Stuart had started to regret insisting he left, too.   
He liked to think he understood. It was a big change for someone who had spent their life pampered and secure; to go from that, to a week long journey, on foot, in the middle of the deepest woods in their region.   
Murdoc knew that it was different for Stuart, whereas he'd spent his childhood hiding in the very same trees. His father wouldn't venture further than the strawberry field. The forest had been his safe haven for years.   
So, he actually knew exactly where they were- he'd hidden in those same bushes, too.  
Murdoc also understood why Stuart was scared. The forest was terrifying at night, he knew that. But it didn't stop him taking the mick.  
"I can't believe you're about to shit yourself over a night in the woods," Murdoc teased, leading him to the tiny, star-lit circle that would serve as the prince's bed for the night. He didn't intend to sleep at all.   
"I-I'm not used to it- aren't you scared?"   
Murdoc laughed without meaning too, and without any mirth. It sounded tired. The laugh of someone who had answered that question a hundred times, with the same answer, and it had embedded itself into his lungs.   
His father asked it a lot. He had a rehearsed response.  
"I'm not scared of anything," Murdoc repeated, ignoring the icy fear he'd felt in his veins at the idea of losing the Prince for good mere hours ago.   
"I know," Stuart replied softly, "you tell me all the time-"  
"It's my job," they said, in unison.  
They blinked at each other for a second. First a hug, two, actually, and then talking in sync.  
And, Murdoc found out, that was the height of comedy, because Stuart began to laugh so loudly and so cheerfully that he fell to the ground. He laughed until his face was so red, Murdoc began to worry. He laughed until it became shrieks, until it swallowed the fear he felt in the dark in it's volume.  
Murdoc couldn't help himself.  
He doubled over, tears rolling down his cheeks, and laughed until he couldn't breathe.  
For a blissful moment, he felt very alive- if alive was shrieking with laughter in the middle of the woods with the only person who would ever hear it, then Murdoc was very glad Stuart had saved him.  
If Murdoc hadn't known any better, he would have called Stuart beautiful in that moment. He had never seemed so happy. He had never seemed so real- the regal curtains tore wide open when the prince laughed.   
Murdoc was the first to stop laughing, and Stuart continued in little snorts and sobs. The bodyguard watched him and felt heat in his cheeks. The prince caught his eye, mid-giggle, and smiled in such a dazzling way, Murdoc's face began to burn up.  
He glanced away before he could give it much thought.  
"You should sleep," he said, "we've got a long journey tomorrow."   
-  
Stuart stopped laughing, finally. His face still hurt but it had been worth it. He hadn't laughed that hard in, well, ever.  
And he didn't think he had heard Murdoc laugh like that ever, either. Seeing him happy- if only for a minute- made Stuart smile wider than he ever thought he did.  
But Murdoc's face only darkened, and he turned, and the prince couldn't help but deflate a little.  
"What about you?" He asked with a small frown.  
"Like fuck am I sleeping," Murdoc replied, as anticipated. "I'll be up all night keeping watch."  
"Don't be stupid. You've got to sleep too."  
But the bodyguard was ignoring him. He turned to the bags, and Stuart stared up at the sky. He'd never been very good with constellations- he could just about remember his name on bad days- but the stars were beautiful regardless. He shuddered.  
"Here," Murdoc said, finally, wrapping the blanket around Stuart's shoulders.   
"I'm staying up with you," he replied, crossing his legs and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. "And I'm sorry I only brought one blanket- are you cold?"  
"You won't be able to stay awake; I know what you're like, Stuart, and you'll be asleep in seconds. And no, I'm fine."   
Stuart nodded. He shifted closer, and focused on the sky and staying awake. It was still dark. He was still cold.  
The idea of just going back to te castle- to his mother, and his father, and the library's fire, and the six blankets he used on cold days...  
And Murdoc, hung in the castle's courtyard, surrounded by members of the public as they booed- as they stared at Stuart, the half-blind monarch, and judged him.  
Murdoc, dead. He'd probably stick his tongue out before he died. Maybe he'd flip off the King, just to really drive the point home. Maybe he'd be like one of those horror stories Stuart heard at gatherings- where the criminal didn't die for hours, they just swung. Murdoc would spend his whole time winking at girls in the 'audience'. He'd turn it into a show, probably- confident and menacing and snickering right up to the end.  
And then Stuart would have to learn to take his medicine on time himself. He'd have to walk from the bottom of his staircase to the dining hall by himself. He would have no one to make faces at when boredom set in. He'd have to sit on the ledge of his big window alone.   
He'd have to live without Murdoc.  
Who was, surprisingly, as warm as ever. Stuart shivered against the gentle, but icy, wind. Murdoc always seemed to be radiating warmth, and it fascinated him. The prince didn't even realise he had shifted so close that his head was on his bodyguard's shoulder until Murdoc sucked in a breath at his cold skin.  
"Sorry," Stuart whispered, because anything louder felt inappropriate, even if he couldn't explain why.  
"It's okay. You're really cold," Murdoc replied. The prince couldn't see him, but he felt his hand gently return his head to his shoulder. In fact, the bodyguard moved closer, and Stuart felt himself slowly heating up.  
"Thank you," he said, voice still soft. "I'm really homesick."  
"You can leave tomorrow, if you want- I can walk you to the edge of the woods."  
"I don't want."   
Murdoc huffed a laugh, and Stuart felt his cheeks warm, too. He lifted his head and pressed his chin to the bodyguard's shoulder instead; watching him watch for danger, wondering how he seemed so composed at the idea of spending a night in the woods, imagining how difficult it was to suddenly become a wanted criminal.  
And then his chin started to hurt, and Murdoc didn't say anything else, so Stuart decided to just close his eyes for five minutes. All the running, all the going blind in one eye- it had been exhausting. A few minutes rest wouldn't hurt.  
-  
Murdoc didn't sleep.  
He waited, feeling Stuart watching him, before the prince's trembling breathing evened out and his head fell to Murdoc's shoulder.  
Murdoc watched the sky for a while. The silence of the forest was getting to him, he felt it- he needed to do something with his hands. He tried just playing with his fingerless gloves but toying with fabric was Stuart's habit, and it felt like stealing, in a way, so he just stopped.  
The silence was good for thinking in, but Murdoc wasn't too keen on that idea.  
He stared at the weeds near the bottom of the bush, as if they had the answers. Why had he been afraid? He wasn't scared of death, because ensuring the prince avoided it was his job, and his father signed away his right to fear death when he was 15. He wasn't scared of being punished, because he'd spent a lot of his childhood being punished. He wasn't scared of the King, because he had seen him cry once, when a close friend had gotten killed in a fight, and it was difficult to be afraid of someone who had been balding since he was 27. He wasn't even scared of disappointing the Queen, although the idea of it made him uncomfortable, because she had never been a mother figure for him, but she had given him plenty of day-dream material and questions for the make-believe mum he'd created.   
No, none of that frightened him; not in the terrifying, blinding, panicky way, that made it feel like he was suffocating. Not in the way he had felt earlier.  
So that left one option: Prince Stuart Pot.  
But Murdoc wasn't afraid of him. What was there to be afraid of? The fact that he was still picking his nose with his tongue at 11, when Murdoc first met him? Or that he was still afraid of the dark? Or that he had unmatched naivety flowing through his veins?  
Or that, no matter how many blades he strapped to himself, or tucked into his belt, or slid into his boot- he always felt like he had to be more guarded around the prince when they were alone?  
Or that he didn't mind that feeling?  
Murdoc didn't want to think about it any more, or he would have to neck Stuart's headache medicine.  
The sun teased the horizon line in the distance, and dyed the forest floor around them a soft orange. Stuart snored softly against his shoulder (Murdoc could have sworn he was dribbling, but didn't bother to investigate, seeing as he was still stained with blood from the ceremony). The menacing forest sounds changed into bird calls slowly.  
Murdoc had worked himself up- thinking about things never did him much good, anyway. He gently lifted the prince's head, amazed he didn't wake, and laid it back down on one of the bags. Stuart nuzzled into it with a soft sigh.   
Satisfied, the bodyguard stood and faced a tree a few feet away. He pulled a knife from his belt slowly, raised it above his head, and hurled it at a tree branch. Watching it break, fly off, and roll away gave him such a sick feeling of satisfaction that he pulled another blade out, narrowing his eyes.  
"I'm not going to miss next time," Murdoc muttered darkly, to no one but himself.   
And then he hurled the next knife into another tree limb.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief mention of child abuse in this chapter, in the last section of Murdoc's inner monologue. Be safe.

When Stuart woke up, he couldn't see anything, he couldn't feel anything, and he couldn't hear anything except for a very gentle thudding.  
Maybe that was his heart, he thought, as he shot up in panic.  
"I can't see!" He yelled, waving his arms, "I've gone blind! Help me!"  
Stuart panicked a lot, at all kinds of things, but this panic was horrible. The only time he had felt this much frantic stress was when he found out that Murdoc was going to be h-  
"MURDOC!" Stuart screamed again, sitting down and putting his head in his hands.  
Someone he couldn't see grabbed his shoulders and forced him back up to his feet. He was spun around and, just as he was building up the courage to scream, he could see again- out of one eye, anyway.  
-  
Murdoc often worried that he was too mean to Stuart.  
And then, other times- like when he was blinded by his fringe and screaming about it- Murdoc thought his digs were perfectly justified.  
Regardless, the desperation with which the prince called for him reminded him too much of the ballroom event, so he left the knife he'd just thrown in the tree to run over.  
Stuart had waved his arms about, high above his head, as if that was going to do much. Murdoc rolled his eyes and grabbed the prince by his shoulders, forced him onto his feet, and began moving the bright blue hair away from his only good eye.  
"Dear Satan," Murdoc said, once Stuart could see again, "your fringe was just covering your good eye- don't scream like that again."  
He didn't add why; because it took him back there, because it suddenly made him feel small, because that single shout of his name made him feel so much all at once that he couldn't handle it.  
"Thank you," Stuart replied. His tone was so genuine, and his eyes were so wide, that Murdoc ended up staring. The prince was flustered after his panic, cheeks red but smile bright.  
He could feel the heat as it crept up the back of his neck. It slid out from his collar and up his ears. For a frightening moment, it dwelled on his cheeks.  
"Are you alright?" The prince asked, voice soft. "You've gone a bit red, Niccals."  
'Niccals' sent him crashing back down. His stomach dipped.  
Murdoc blinked, and then nodded stiffly. He turned to face any way but straight ahead, where the prince stood, "I'm fine."  
"Okay. Thank you- really. I panicked for a minute there."  
Murdoc felt the words in his mouth before he said them.  
No, he tasted them. Bland. Metallic. Like blood, but also like pencil lead.  
"It's my job," he mumbled, before walking away to retrieve his knife from it's hole in the tree.  
-  
"We've got to get moving," Murdoc snapped, sliding one of the bags into his back.  
Stuart rolled his eyes. The bodyguard had been rushing him for ten minutes, and he was getting tired of it. But Murdoc had folded his arms and stood directly in front of Stuart.  
"Come on, dearest prince," he huffed, "we are on the run."  
He supposed that much was true.  
"Will you, uh, will you do my laces, Murdoc? You know if I do it they'll come undone in no time," Stuart asked, tangling and untangling his fingers.  
Murdoc huffed, again, but knelt down. The prince fidgeted until his boots were secure enough to walk. The bodyguard had turned and began his marching before Stuart could thank him.  
As they walked, the prince felt himself getting hungry.  
The sky told him it was early morning. Around breakfast time, according to Stuart's stomach. But Murdoc had his hands clenched into fists and the prince could practically feel the energy of his scowl from behind him.  
That didn't stop his mind wandering, though.  
Breakfast had been Stuart's favourite part of the day when he was younger. The spread was fantastic. He was allowed sweet white wine once he turned 10. The table would be full of fruit, and Stuart was obsessed with the grapes. Sometimes, there would be baskets of golden apples he and his mother had picked the day before. He always managed to snatch the warmest bread, too. There was pasta on Thursdays, and porridge with warm honey and blueberries on Saturdays. He preferred the days when they just had fruits and bread, and Stuart used to drown the warm loaf in honey.  
That was why his two front teeth were missing.  
But, as he grew up, breakfast became part of his chores. He'd be read his schedule as he tore off lumps of bread- usually cold by the time he made it past the people payed to fuss about him.  
Apple basket days were still good.  
Thinking about all the food at the castle only made Stuart's stomach louder. He wrapped his arms around his middle self-consciously.  
"Murdoc, are you hungry?" The prince asked.  
"No? Why, is it breakfast?" Murdoc asked, sounding genuinely astonished at the notion.  
"I think so," Stuart said, "how are you not hungry?"  
"I don't typically eat breakfast," the bodyguard replied with a shrug, "I need to stay sharp, especially if you've got something on, but typically me and Samson finish off whatever you don't eat."  
"Really?" Stuart questioned with a frown. That didn't sound right.  
Murdoc nodded, turning around and walking backward. "The only days I eat breakfast is when there are those baskets of golden apples. I can't resist those."  
Stuart's frown gave way to a small smile. He felt some odd pride, and something else, knowing that Murdoc would only eat breakfast if it was the apples he and his mother picked together.  
"Really? Me and my mother pick those together," he explained, smiling.  
Murdoc raised his eyebrows, nodded, and then turned around to continue walking. Stuart smiled at the ground as he followed, still hungry, but full to the brim with a nice emotion that he couldn't name and wasn't going to bother.  
-  
Murdoc felt weirdly at home in the woods.  
He would never take Stuart very far when he begged to go 'exploring'. A few left turns and the prince was convinced they had been walking for hours. Murdoc didn't really want to go much further, because that part of the woods was where he spent all of youth, and he wasn't sold on sharing that with Stuart.  
But that couldn't be helped then, because they had to go as far as possible.  
The forest still felt safe. Murdoc didn't fit in at the castle- not really. He was too 'common' for most of the other staff members. The King and Queen put up with his manners because he protected their son (until yesterday, he though, melancholically). Other than that, Murdoc was ignored. The only person who bothered talking to him outside of arranging a royal outing or correcting his manners was Stuart.  
But the deep forest was where he felt most at-home. It had been his home, really, because he didn't count the shaky house in the shaky fishing village he grew up in. When he wasn't hauling makeshift weight of hay and stones, or throwing knives at wooden boards, or screaming through beatings for things he didn't do, Murdoc was scaling trees (or punching them- all the pent up anger was unhealthy, and his knuckles never did heal correctly), or just exploring. He ate a lot of his meals there, too- especially in the summer, because Sebastian Niccals wouldn't waste money on food that could be spent at the local pub.  
There was only one thing missing.  
"Woah! Look at that raven, Murdoc!" Hissed Stuart, pulling him from his thoughts.  
Murdoc spun around. Perched on a tree to their left was the largest raven he had ever seen. It held itself with the poise and elegance of royalty, and Murdoc would know. It stared straight at them and, when the bodyguard met its eye, squawked so loudly he felt the prince flinch.  
There was something families about it, though.  
"He's massive! I've never seen one that big."  
"Sh!"  
"Is he staring at you? Why's he looking at you funny!"  
"For the love of Satan, Stuart, shut up a second!"  
The prince listened, although he continued to tilt his head to the side and narrow his eyes at the bird as if he could figure out the answer with pure willpower.  
Murdoc stepped forward, and the raven squawked again, bouncing forward itself. It bobbed its head up and down as it moved.  
"It looks like he's dancing-"  
"Stuart!"  
"Right, sorry."  
Murdoc huffed and took a few steps forward. The bird tilted its head, blinking knowingly. The bodyguard furrowed his brows. How was a bird so strikingly familiar?  
Hesitantly, Murdoc held out his hand.  
The bird perked up at this, and leapt from the branch. It glided across the small gap and landed nearly on Murdoc's hand. The prince gasped behind him.  
"Cortez?" Murdoc whispered, surprise in every crease of his face.  
The bird bobbed its head a few times, and then shook a talon.  
"Cortez! My, I haven't seen you since I was- what, 15? Since I started working at the castle."  
Cortez, who Murdoc now recognised, bounced up and down again, before clawing his way up to the bodyguard's shoulder.  
The raven had been Murdoc's companion for years. He would sit on a tree branch that poked out at the back of his house, and start pecking on the windows when his father began shouting sometimes. Murdoc would meet him on the edge of the woods and would tearfully challenge the bird to a race to the strawberry field. He'd lose every time. Murdoc had been friends with Cortez since he was 5- 10 whole years before he knew Stuart.  
"You, uh, know the bird?" The prince asked, standing what he considered to be a safe distance away.  
Murdoc thought that was smart. Cortez had always had a habit of attacking people who weren't him. He nodded.  
"I used to come out here a lot when I was younger, and he'd always meet me at the edge of the forest," Murdoc explained, trying to be as vague as possible.  
"Does he not like other people?"  
Cortez squawked and rubbed his head against Murdoc's jaw. Then, he lifted his head and almost squinted at Stuart. The bodyguard felt panic in his stomach- if the raven attacked the prince, he didn't know what he would do.  
They both held their breath as the bird examined Stuart.  
Then, he jumped off Murdoc's shoulder, and onto the prince's. He tilted his head and bounced a few times, before seemingly deciding Stuart was okay. Cortez even started rubbing his soft feathers against the prince's cheeks, causing him to giggle.  
Murdoc's face burned. He didn't want to think about Cortez's actions and what they meant. The bird showed no sign of leaving the prince's shoulder, so Murdoc turned and started walking again.  
"Come on, dearest prince, and Cortez, I suppose. Get a move on!" He called.  
Stuart sped up and then fell into step behind Murdoc, chatting away to the raven. The bodyguard didn't know why the feeling in his stomach felt a lot like jealousy as he recounted the weapons on his person. He chose to do what he did best- ignore it, and keep moving.


	6. Chapter 6

The raven provided a welcome distraction from hunger.  
For a while, at least.  
They walked for three more hours before Stuart acknowledged his hunger again. A glance at the sky told him it was almost lunch time, and he was always snacking in between meals at the castle anyway.  
"Murdoc, I'm hungry again," the prince complained, Cortez squawking in what he assumed to be agreement.  
He could feel the bodyguard's eye roll before he turned around.  
"Fine. It's almost lunch time anyway. Can you wait, maybe, uh..." Murdoc turned back around, squinted, and then nodded, "a few more minutes?"  
Stuart tilted his head in confusion. Why? They had bags full of bread and water. Why did he have to wait to eat?  
"Uhm, okay, sure."  
Cortez softly pecked his cheek before he leapt off the prince's shoulder. He landed softly and nearly on Murdoc's shoulder, and the bodyguard seemed to stand in quiet thought for a moment.  
Stuart allowed his mind to wander himself. His legs were hurting anyway. He watched Murdoc as he thought, and decided that Cortez suited him more. He looked noble. Standing there, in the middle of the woods, the prince thought his bodyguard looked almost handsome. Tight black sleeveless shirt, speckled with blood. Knives hanging from his hips. Hair casting a shadow on his eyes to make them darker than they already were. A bold raven perched proudly on his shoulder. Late morning sunlight illuminating his other features  
Murdoc had never looked so good.  
And the prince only smiled at the realisation. It was nice, he thought, that the bodyguard looked like he belonged there- just like that. Stuart didn't really dwell on what it meant that he believed Murdoc to be handsome in that moment. He had bigger problems to worry about, and he thought that realisation was relatively simple. So Stuart believed that his bodyguard was somewhat attractive- it sort of made sense.  
"Get a move on," Murdoc said, turning back around and pulling the prince from his daydream.  
He'd revisit it later. In a moment when he had more time, and less hunger.  
-  
Murdoc knew exactly where he was leading the prince.  
He knew Stuart ate constantly- even envied how his consumption of nothing but bread and fruit never showed itself physically- so he had expected him to be complaining of hunger the whole time. Fortunately, Murdoc knew a place.  
A few minutes later, he found it. A lake in the middle of the woods, surrounded by berry bushes of all kind. He pulled back a tree branch that hid it from view. It was magical, he had believed that as a child, because no one else had ever seen it. No one but him and Cortez, who let out a high pitched squawk at the familiar setting.  
"Ta-da," he presented, sounding flatter than intended.  
The prince lit up, his smile too wide for his face, and looked at Murdoc as if he had just handed him the world. It made his face burn.  
"Blackberries!" Stuart exclaimed as he bounced on his heels.  
The bodyguard stepped to the left, and the blue-haired prince rushed past, immediately collapsing in front of the bushes. He began picking the ripest ones excitedly. Cortez had joined him.  
Murdoc watched, sitting down near the lake. The sun hit the water perfectly. It lit Stuart up, too; reflecting beautifully in his direction, capturing all of Murdoc's attention without him even realising it.  
And then the prince stopped looking like an angelic creature and almost shoved an unrinsed blackberry in his mouth.  
"Stuart!" Murdoc call, pointing to the clear water of the lake, "wash it first! There are real bloody animals here, you know. They piss on everything!"  
The prince froze, and then laughed as he brought his hand full to Murdoc's spot. Cortez followed and perched himself on the bodyguard's knee. He squawked, seemingly offended at the animal comment, and pecked his kneecap.  
"That's fair, Cortez. I'm sure you're very civil with where you piss," Murdoc commented sarcastically, earning himself another angered squawk.  
Stuart laughed, though- and the bodyguard felt himself reddening. He glared at Cortez and decided he hated the fact that the raven's eyes seemed to tell Murdoc something he would rather not acknowledge.  
Once the prince had cleaned and eaten 100 of the blueberries, his eyes lit up.  
"Let's swim!"  
"No," Murdoc snapped, shaking his head. "Never."  
"Please, Niccals?" Stuart asked again, bending down to where the bodyguard sat.  
"Listen, maybe later, okay? You go in if you're that desperate, dearest prince."  
"Come on, Murdoc. Please?"  
"No!"  
Stuart sighed in defeat. He rolled his eyes, but Murdoc didn't comment on it. The prince just turned, took off his boots, rolled up his trousers, and hesitantly made his way into the water.  
And Murdoc pulled the tiny flask of rum from his belt.  
-  
She had never seen people in this part of the woods. She was the only person who had walked through those leaves in years. The forest was her personal training grounds. The village she protected was too poor for her to train efficiently, so she had learnt how to do it herself using the surrounding woods.  
And they had been ignored by others for years.  
She watched them from the trees. Two men, one tall with the strut of a privileged past, and one shorter, armed with blades, who walked as if the world was on his shoulders- and their shared pet raven. They cast secret glances at each other when they believed the other wouldn't notice, and their cheeks flushed red by the end of every conversation. The shorter one, the armed man, seemed to know the woods as well as she. He led the trio to food and water- to the lake that she had assumed no one else knew existed.  
He seemed vaguely familiar. She had heard stories of a small boy from a neighbouring village- the fishing one, near the sea- passed on dusty street corners. It was before her time. But he spent all his time in the forest. He kept a bird as a companion and fed himself on the berries and fruits that could be found in the deep vegetation. The story went that the small boy's father was violent, obsessed with alcohol. The forest was supposed to be his safe haven.  
She had only heard snippets of descriptions, and he was bound to be either fake, or too old to recognise. She knew that he had long black hair that hid his eyes, that he wore dark clothes, and his nose had been broken by his malicious father.  
The man seemed to fit that, to some extent.  
And she saw something familiar in the tall one. His bright blue hair did not exactly blend into the green and brown surroundings. After some thought, it occurred to her that he was the prince that had gone missing the day before. Everyone had been talking about it in the village. She had tried her best to ignore it, but people talked a lot and people talked loudly.  
So, she had followed them to the lake, and she had concluded that the pair were secret lovers, because no one blushed harder than a pair of secret lovers. And the runaway prince story, combined with the clear star crossed narrative- there was an undeniable connection between them.  
She wanted to help.  
She approached the shorter one slowly. He had opted out of swimming, and the tall prince had made it to the middle of the lake. He was smiling at the small fish that lived their. The man looked sad as he watched the Royal enjoy himself in the sun and the water- she couldn't blame either of them.  
"Excuse me sir," she said softly, stood behind him. He jumped and she had to fight her smirk. "I haven't heard of anyone in this part of the woods for many, many years. People call me Noodle, and I think I'd be able to help you out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!! Noodle has arrived! I'm very excited to start her part of the story, because I love her a lot.  
> Comments are very welcome and always appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

"N- Who the bloody fuck are you? You look about ten!"  
Murdoc had just about jumped out of his skin. The girl had pulled him from a daydream that he didn't care to disclose, because it had made his face warm enough. He hadn't seen anybody else in the woods for a while, and her appearance disproved his theory that the lake was magical.  
"I already told you," she replied, way too calm for how loud his pulse was, "people call me Noodle. And I'm fifteen, thank you."  
She sat next to Murdoc without invitation. Stuart hadn't even noticed her arrival- he was too busy attempting to scoop the small fish from the water. Murdoc watched him for a moment and envied his nativity. He wished that he could drift through life as the prince could.  
And then it occurred to him that, since his big mistake, the prince had been prevented from drifting anywhere much at all.  
"You stare at him a lot. What is his name?" Noodle asked.  
She had a thick accent, one Murdoc had never heard before, but spoke perfect English.  
"First of all, I only stare at him when I'm wondering how the fuck someone can be so dense," Murdoc snapped, "and his name's Stuart Pot."  
"Like the prince?"  
"Uh...yeah, like the prince."  
"And what is your name, sir?"  
"Murdoc," he replied, screwing the lid of his small flask and tucking it into his belt.  
"How do you know the prince?"  
Noodle watched him hiding his flask. He could feel her eyes on him. It made him fidget.  
"I'm, uh, his bodyguard," Murdoc explained, "I have been since I was...your age, I suppose."  
"Are you two close?"  
Murdoc looked over at him. Stuart had spotted a dragonfly at the other end of the lake and seemed to be following it, splashing water all up his front. What an idiot, he thought, although he couldn't fight the fond smirk on his face.  
"I suppose," Murdoc replied with a shrug.  
Noodle nodded, as if she understood- which was obviously ridiculous, because she was fifteen.  
Looking at her, he felt as if he was looking at himself. She, too, was armed and had the piercing eyes of a warrior that Murdoc knew too well. Noodle had two swords hoisted on her back, their sheaths and straps bright red leather. Her belt matched and Murdoc could count four knives.  
She looked like someone he might have fought before being chosen to protect a royal, to prove he was the strongest.  
And it made him shudder.  
"I'm very sorry, but I must ask; are you two on the run? You've covered a great distance, and your prince seems to have gone missing- the people in my village were talking about it."  
"In a way," Murdoc said, waving a hand as if the details weren't important. "I did something, and I was to be hung, and I suppose Stuart didn't want that to happen."  
"So, your job was to keep him from dying, and he saved you from death instead?" Noodle asked with all the wisdom and grace of the Monarchs that Stuart was forced to interact with.  
Her questioned made Murdoc feel sick. He supposed that was exactly what happened, but he had been ignoring the simple implications until that moment. He found himself staring at Stuart again.  
"Er, yes. That's exactly it."  
Noodle nodded in her wise, regal way once again.  
"As I said, I can help you. No one will know you're running. I know this woods as well as I know myself. Where are you trying to get to, Murdoc?"  
"Caelum Mare," he replied.  
The name caused a physical reaction from him, and he hated the power his past could have. It felt as if saying those words had given the fishing village a physical form, and it had wrapped itself around his ribs on the inside.  
"The fishing village?" Noodle asked again.  
The grip got tighter. Murdoc just nodded in reply. Any luck, and his father- and anyone associated closely enough to recognise him- was long dead.  
"I know that place. Very far. Behind the next kingdom, yes?"  
"Yes," Murdoc confirmed.  
He struggled to keep his voice clear and cold. Watching Stuart and Cortez chase each other around the lake wasn't helping.  
"Very well. I suspect you know these forests well enough to have such an...ambitious journey planned, but I have never seen you before, and I am here most days," she started, and Murdoc nodded along with her words, "How do you know it so well?"  
Murdoc shifted, staring at his hands because watching the prince was giving him a headache. He wasn't sure why, but explaining it to Noodle- who was practically a stranger and barely fifteen- felt easier than explaining it to Stuart. He took a deep breath.  
"I spent all of my time here when I was younger," Murdoc said, voice quiet as he reflected, "it was, in some ways, a second home for me. And I grew up in the fishing village."  
Noodle opened her mouth as if to say something vital, and then shut it again. Instead, she just nodded, and stood up, offering Murdoc her hand.  
"Let me take you two to my village, just for a short while. If I am to accompany you, I need to pick up some things. You understand?"  
"Who said you were to 'accompany' us anyway? You're just a kid. Go back home and continue practicing being a sodding ninja," Murdoc snapped defensively, shaking his head. He wasn't about to drag an innocent little girl into the mess- he'd already put Stuart in grave danger.  
"Don't be pathetic," Noodle replied as she hooked her thumbs into her belt instead. "I have a lot to learn from you, because I believe we are similar, and that means you have things to learn from me, as well."  
-  
Stuart loved the lake.  
It made him warm, both inside and on his cheeks, to know Murdoc was sharing a very personal spot with him.  
The sky was clear and the sun has warmed the water enough that it was bearable if the prince tried hard enough. He was still hungry, but could feel his anxiety begin to steadily rise, and so the peaceful water and fresh berries gave him a little piece of relaxation.  
Even if Murdoc had not joined him, and Stuart hadn't felt truly calm since he had slept on his knee. There had been too much distance between him. Murdoc made him feel safe, always, but he wasn't completely calm until he could smell him- cigars and rum and leather and, oddly, coal.  
Cortez squawked every time Stuart stared at the bodyguard for a second too long.  
They began a game where the raven would perch on the plants that grew from the lake and attempt to catch berries in his beak that Stuart aimed at him.  
Cortez was fantastic at catching them, the prince just didn't have fantastic aim to match.  
While the raven ate the berries that he had missed, Stuart turned to see what Murdoc was doing.  
He expected to see him stabbing something, or picking at the grass, or drinking from the flask in his belt he thought Stuart didn't know about.  
He did not expect to see him talking to a girl.  
She was sitting next to him, nodding along as he talked. She seemed drastically younger than the bodyguard but Stuart didn't trust his sight very much. They were lost in their conversation, until Murdoc looked up and caught Stuart's eye.  
He wasn't sure why, but the stranger made his stomach twist. He frowned.  
Jealously, he vaguely recalled, felt somewhat like that. Like someone was taking something precious from his grasp. Like he felt when he watched Murdoc at the gatherings, flirting with a barmaid.  
The exact same feeling. A blow to the stomach, perhaps, or like something had been dropped on his head.  
Describing feelings had never been Stuart's strong suit.  
Cortez made a sound that strongly resembled a gasp, and glided to Murdoc's side.  
Stuart clenched his fists at his sides and began to wade through the water to the other side, climbed up onto the bank of the lake, and stood in front of Murdoc, behind the girl.  
He cleared his throat.  
"Excuse me?" Stuart said, his voice less intimidating than he wanted. He sounded like a child about to ask his teacher where the apples were. "Who're you?"  
Murdoc was staring at him from the ground. The prince tried his best to ignore him.  
The girl turned around, and offered a smile so warm that Stuart switched his demeanour instantly. She wasn't Murdoc's type. And she looked much younger up close.  
"I'm Noodle," she introduced, in an accent Stuart didn't recognise, "I'm a warrior from a village close by and would like to help you two as best I can."  
"You would?"  
"Yes. And I know your story, Prince Stuart, but do not fear- I will not tell another living soul."  
Since when was it safe to tell strangers in the woods that you were on the run? The last time Stuart had trusted a mysterious girl, he had nearly lost the most important thing in his life.  
"Can I, uh, can I talk to Murdoc, please?"  
He felt anxious just looking at Noodle.  
Murdoc huffed and got to his feet, grabbing Stuart's elbow and pulling him away. When they were out of earshot, he made the same face he had when the prince suggested they stopped for a break.  
"You stay in the woods for one night and all your manners go out the window. What?"  
"Can..can we trust her?" Stuart asked, wrapping his arms around himself.  
Something flashed across Murdoc's face. Realisation, perhaps. His expression softened.  
"Stuart, is this about-"  
"Don't!" The prince snapped, shaking his head. "Don't say it. This has nothing to do with that. I just...can we really t-trust her? She knows who I am! What if she knows...what is she's connected to Paula-"  
The name tasted like poison, then. It wrapped itself around his tongue and left him feeling nauseous. He felt as if he couldn't breath.  
And Murdoc was looking at him with so much pity and concern that it hurt.  
"Stuart, listen to me," the bodyguard demanded softly, gently grabbing the prince's shaking wrists. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you like that again, I swear on it. Never. I promise you're safe."  
"B-but, what if she...what if she's working with her and she's going to hurt me or you-"  
"Dearest prince," Murdoc said, and for once it wasn't sarcastic- for once, Stuart was okay with it. "You don't need to worry. I trust her- you trust my judgement, don't you? I said that woman was dangerous and she was. I haven't been wrong yet."  
Stuart gulped, nodding, because he supposed that made sense.  
"I promise, okay? And look," the bodyguard pointed in her direction.  
She was bent next to Cortez, gently stroking the feathers on his head with her finger. He was twittering happily.  
"Cortez...Cortez likes her," Stuart observed.  
"Cortez likes her," repeated Murdoc with a nod. "And Cortez wouldn't let her near us if she was dangerous."  
Noodle looked up then and smiled.  
"How old is she?"  
"Fifteen."  
"The same age you were when we met," Stuart said, and Murdoc nodded. "And she's a warrior, just like you were, right?"  
"Yeah, so she says. Protector of her village."  
"Okay," the prince decided. "Okay. I'll...we can go with her. I'm really sorry I got all freaked out-"  
Murdoc cut him off, but not in his usual way.  
Instead of telling him to shut up, or that apologising was silly, the bodyguard wrapped his arms around the prince's middle and placed his chin on his shoulder.  
"It's okay," he whispered, hugging Stuart as if he would break him if he held him any harder. "I know. I understand. It's okay, dearest prince- I promise."  
Stuart didn't say anything. He just buried his head in Murdoc's thick hair and nodded. He felt his anxiety shrink at the contact.  
Noodle was looking at them with a knowing smile, and Stuart wondered what he knew.  
"If we leave now, we may make the village by dinner time. You two cannot live on bread and berries, you know," she said, although her grin told the prince that she wasn't in a rush.  
Murdoc coughed and straightened, turning around quickly.  
Stuart sighed. He was cold again, but he supposed that was his own fault for getting into the water.  
Dinner sounded good, though.  
"Let's go, then, because I'm starving!"  
Murdoc's small laugh was enough to warm him up a little. For the time being, at least.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I'm working on releasing another chapter today, and maybe another. I've not been doing so well mentally lately, but I'm working on it. If you want more frequent progress updates, feel free to follow me on Instagram (@lundun.luves)! Comments are always appreciated and motivate me a lot!! <3

The walk to the girls village was longer than expected. Murdoc insisted on walking behind the prince, with Noodle in front. Cortez disappeared after an hour or so.   
They walked for hours. The sky was getting dark when the girl lead them down a twisted path, to a forced entrance in the trees branches. Murdoc looked up, standing still for a second, because he hadn't been able to breathe properly since the incident, and he had a feeling that he would be meeting more people.   
The sky was no longer bright and beautiful. It seemed almost sinister to him- a deep, misty, navy. The stars were barely there, but Murdoc could just about make out their harsh white twinkling. The navy reminded him of the prince's hair when it rained.   
He breathed, closing his eyes. In. Out. And then nodded to himself.  
"Are you okay?" Someone asked softly, tiredly, from in front of him.   
The bodyguard opened his eyes with a fresh frown. The pair had stopped, both looking at him like he had just said something ridiculous.  
"Of course I am," Murdoc dismissed, blinking, and realised the prince had spoken. "Move it, dearest prince, you've been complaining about being hungry this whole time."   
Stuart huffed, but spun around and carried on following the girl. Murdoc could see that he was tired from the way he walked. His head hung forward, his blue hair falling in front of his eyes. His steps were uneven- wobbly, like he was drunk and trying to find his bed.   
Murdoc didn't do anything, because he was tired himself.  
-  
After carefully assessment, Noodle had decided that the village's small pub would be the best fit for her new little crew. The prince seemed weary. She supposed it was probably difficult for him. He'd lived a life of luxury and comfort, constantly protected and safe in secure castle walls. From what she had heard about the royals, they never travelled on foot, either.   
But Murdoc was different. He intrigued her. While she liked the prince's childish goofiness, his protector was interesting in a very different way. He looked worn down- as if life and living itself was almost too much to bare. His connection to the forest was strong, too, but he seemed to be from a different place. Any exposed skin was scarred or bruised from a life-time of fighting. He held himself as if always anticipating a battle, and many of them seemed mental, when Noodle saw him thinking.   
She loved battling. Training. She protected her village with pride. No one ever forced her into it, she just had a passion for serving justice; for slicing through someone, for hiding, for spying on people. It was her favourite thing to do.   
But the bodyguard wasn't born like that, and it showed. He obviously took pride in his job, but the genuine fire and love for it wasn't natural to him. It had been forced. Curated carefully after years of harsh treatment, probably.   
Noodle couldn't imagine the kind of pain the man was in.   
But, as they walked, and the pair spoke about mundane things she was hardly interested in, Murdoc changed. He smiled at Stuart when he didn't think he was looking, and his whole face changed. The second they were apart or silent, though, he went back to be guarded in more ways than one.  
How interesting, Noodle thought, as she led them to the entrance she had forced through the trees. The bodyguard paused, and then they continued to the pathway.   
"Where are we going?" The prince asked. He fiddled with his fingers when he spoke.   
"This is my village," Noodle replied. "And I am leading you to our public house- our pub. The food is warm there, and the drink is inexpensive. You'll be welcomed, I'm sure."   
When she looked at Murdoc, he was squinting at the building she had gestured to. At the mention of other people his grip on the blades strapped to his hips tightened. He took a step closer to the curious prince.  
"Not too welcomed," Murdoc commented. "We'll never be able to leave otherwise."  
"What do you mean, Niccals?"   
"Fucking hell, Stuart, stop calling me that. I mean that you'll stay with anyone who compliments you, damnit."  
Noodle saw the prince's face twist. Clearly, the comment had struck a nerve, although she didn't know why. Murdoc had clenched his other fist.  
"Excuse me?" Stuart asked, offended. "Was that about-"  
"Don't say it! Don't you dare. That's not it."  
"That was about Lady Paula, wasn't it?" The prince said, his voice taking on a cold tone she didn't know he possessed.  
A deep frown crept onto his face. Noodle knew he couldn't see the pain in Murdoc's eyes as he said that. She didn't know who Lady Paula was, but it couldn't have been good. The sound of wings caused her to turn around- Cortez had perched himself on a fence nearby. She smiled softly. The raven seemed keen to protect Murdoc.  
"I-It's not! And she wasn't a fucking Lady. Stupid wrench doesn't deserve a title," the bodyguard fired back.   
"Well, maybe you should have done your job properly!"   
Both went quiet, and Noodle held her breath. She had seen plenty of arguments. Brothers, sisters, parents, friends. She had watched more screaming matches than she could count. Sometimes they got physical, and sometimes they didn't, but none of them had ever been as passionately charged as an argument between lovers.  
The two, stood in tense silence, radiated the same energy.   
"Maybe you shouldn't be such an oblivious idiot," Murdoc said, after a second. "It'd make my fucking job a lot easier."  
"Well, maybe I don't want your constantly bloody protection. It hasn't done me any good so far, has it?"   
"Fuck you!"   
"No, fuck you!"   
Murdoc made a noise- like a growl, deep in his throat- and then turned to Noodle. She offered a pleasant smile. His eyes softened for a minute.  
"Where's the pub?" He asked. She pointed down the path. "Thanks."   
With another glance at Stuart, the bodyguard set off down the path.   
-  
Stuart hated arguing, but he was tired and hungry, and he was feeling to much. He had been pretty sheltered as a child. He hadn't experienced or known a lot about the harshness of the world beyond thick story books.   
He clenched his fists, and his hands shook with anger. His eyes burned with hot tears (the blood-filled one stung).   
"We'd better follow him," Stuart said with a sigh.   
He supposed that was how it all started- with him following Murdoc.  
"Of course," Noodle said, nodding. She motioned for him to start walking and fell into step beside him.  
"You two argue like lovers," she commented casually.  
The prince frowned. He had heard 'like a married couple' before, but never 'lovers'. Maybe it was just different where the little girl came from.  
"I suppose we do. We spend a lot of time together."   
"He likes it when you cuss, even if it is at him."   
"What?"  
Noodle looked at him. She shifted her fringe slightly.  
"His eyes changed when you used a cuss word," she explained, "like it made him feel good when you spoke in his way. His eyes give a lot away. I don't think you pay attention."  
Stuart tugged at the sleeves of his shirt, frowning at the ground. He never focused on Murdoc's eyes. It hadn't seemed all that important. But he didn't want to admit that, so instead grew defensive.  
"Why're you pretending you know us? I pay plenty of attention."  
"I'm not pretending, I do know you, or I think I do. But I'll stop prying, if it's making you uncomfortable."  
"You don't speak like a child."  
"I've been told."  
They settled into silence, although her words still haunted Stuart's ears. Had he really missed how easy Murdoc had been to read the whole time?   
But there was no time to think. Noodle had stopped him in front of the building. He took in the chipped paint, the door that didn't close properly, and the lack of bright decoration. It didn't seem like a place to gather for food and drink.   
Stuart opened the door regardless.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a mini-heart attack a moment before uploading this because ao3 pulled an 'error 503' and the website was lost. Here it is anyway.

When the prince entered, everyone looked at him.   
Murdoc couldn't blame them. Whether they were aware he was Royal or not, Stuart certainly drew a lot of attention. His bright blue hair and tight, expensive clothes was bound to attract the curious eyes of poorer village men. The fact he still had his crown on kind of ruined the effect, though.   
He looked a little baffled at the attention, and glanced around the room. The bodyguard had already sat on a stool against the bar. When he caught Stuart's eye, the prince's expression hardened. He made a point of striding across the shaky wooden floor and sitting several spaces away. The girl had followed him, and sat next to him.   
"I don't need this anymore," Murdoc heard him say, and then he took his crown off his head.  
It stung, to see him like that. He'd never seen Stuart take his crown off in public. Noodle seemed just as shocked, but the prince didn't notice. He shoved the gold into one of the backpacks as the barmaid approached.  
Murdoc felt a little sick. Maybe he really didn't want his protection anymore.   
He knocked back his pint and waved for another, forcing himself to stop looking at Stuart because it was making him feel nauseous. At least, if he no longer had a job, he could get drunk.   
-  
Stuart intentionally sat away from Murdoc, but he could feel him watching him. He was always watching him. If he asked, he was told that it was his job; but, as far as the prince was concerned, he had practically fired the bodyguard minutes ago.   
Sitting in public without a crown felt odd, but weirdly freeing. The people in the pub only watched him for a few more seconds before returning to their own conversations. Noodle tapped him, the barmaid stood waiting.  
"I'll have, er......" Stuart went blank. He'd only ever drunk wine, and the place hardly seemed fancy enough to sell the same fine dark red he liked.  
"He'll have a pint of ale, please, Portia," Noodle interrupted, "and can I have some orange juice?"   
"'Course, comin' right up, poppet," said the woman- Portia- and then turned around.  
"You're not drinking?" Stuart asked.  
"I'm fifteen," Noodle answered, "and I need a clear head if I am to help you and your friend."   
"He's not my friend, not anymore."   
The girl shrugged. He thought it odd that she was staying sober for a clear head, because Murdoc had always told him that he drank for the same reason.   
The prince allowed himself one glance over at the bodyguard. He was leant slightly over the bar, talking to a different woman, and she giggled at something he said. He was smiling at her, tilting his head in her direction. She leaned forward to whisper something in his ear and winked when she stood back up.  
Stuart hated it. It made his throat feel tight, but he couldn't look away. Murdoc was obviously charming her. He felt his face burning as he watched. Something stirred in his chest, but he couldn't name it.  
"'Ere ya go," Portia said, placing the drinks in front of him and bringing his attention away from the sickening scene. He thanked her quickly and handed her a few coins without checking how much it was.  
"This is too much," she told him.   
"Take it. I've got plenty." The prince waved his hand dismissively and she nodded, seemingly speechless.   
"You've gone bright red," Noodle whispered once she went away. Stuart had gone back to staring at Murdoc, who hadn't noticed and continued to run his hand up the woman's arm.   
"Have I?" He asked, knowing full well that his face was burning.  
"Yes," she said. She followed his eyes and made a small noise of understanding. "I see. He is seducing Charlotte, isn't he? I hope he's being nice to her."   
Stuart huffed. He didn't blame the woman- Charlotte. He knew full well that Murdoc had a certain appeal, and that he did have the ability to charm even the most stubborn people. The prince vaguely reflecting on how he thought about and accepted Murdoc as handsome, how it had made sense that he thought that.   
Noodle poked him again.  
"You're staring, Prince Stuart. I highly suggest you stop and drink. It may make you feel better."   
"Don't call me that," he replied, "just Stuart will do."   
He turned back to his drink, and frowned. It was brown, looked dirty, and served in a plain glass. The prince didn't know what he was expecting. He picked it up, and flinched when it burned his throat.   
Stuart vaguely wondered how Murdoc drank so much of the same brown sludge.  
\--  
The drink hit him like a pile of bricks. Stuart didn't feel anything at first, and then the drink began to take it's effect. He ordered another, and drank that too, and then he started laughing at everything. He'd never felt so light before.   
Murdoc was watching him, he could feel it. The woman he was seducing earlier had gone back to work.   
It felt good. It was very different to wine drunk, where he just wanted to crawl into bed and maybe cry.   
No, this made him feel charged. Like he was floating above his problems. The people in the pub seemed to think him funny as he spoke to them every time they came up to order. Noodle had long left his side, instead dancing with a smaller village girl to the small band of men in the corner.  
He ordered another.  
As he was about to finish it, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Stuart spun around, a big dopey smile on his face. A woman stood in front of him with a hand on her hips and a sly smile on her cherry red lips.   
"I'm Marilyn," she introduced right away. "And you are?"   
Stuart gulped, still grinning.  
"I'm Stuart. You're gorgeous. Can I get you a drink?"   
Marilyn smiled and sat down next to him, nodding. He looked at her for a second. She seemed to be in her late twenties. Her hair was practically golden, cut slightly shorter than average, but delicately curled at the ends. Her eyes were big and as blue as his hair. She really was gorgeous.   
"So, Stuart, I've never seen ya 'round 'ere before," Marilyn said, her smile as bright as her eyes. "Where ya from?"   
Stuart opened his mouth to reply, and then someone grabbed his shoulders. He waved his arms but was too drunk to know what was going on.   
-  
Murdoc hadn't expected Stuart to get so drunk, and he hadn't expected to feel so angry when a woman started flirting with him.   
He got to his feet, knocked back his second drink, and grabbed the prince by his shoulders. He didn't even look at the woman nor did he listen to Stuart's protests as he practically dragged him out of the door. The bodyguard dropped him on the side of the path.   
"What the bloody hell was that for!?" Stuart shouted, his speech slightly slurred as he waved his hands. Murdoc didn't even bask in the warmth that came when he spoke common.   
"You're really drunk, and I'm not about to let you go wandering off with anymore strange women."   
"I told you I didn't want your protection anymore, you stupid git! You're just jealous because a good looking girl wanting to talk to me!"   
Murdoc frowned. He grabbed Stuart's arm and pulled him to his feet, beginning to drag him behind the pub. He didn't want his shouting tantrum to draw any unnecessary attention.   
"Let go of me! I demand you to let go of me!"  
"Command," Murdoc corrected, pulling him around the corner. He forced the prince to sit down and then knelt down next to him, folding his arms.   
"You're a bastard," the prince said. "You're a bastard and I hate you."   
Murdoc felt his stomach twist. He felt sick, like he could throw up. Typically, a comment like that would make him angry, but coming from the prince? It just stung. Unbelievable pain. Like someone had stabbed his side again, torn it right open.  
"I saw you talking to that silly barmaid and I felt so horrible, and a pretty girl wants to talk to me and you ruin it. You ruin everything. You ruined my damn life. It's your fault we're out here-"   
Stuart carried on, firing insult after insult in drunken slurs. Murdoc felt his blood begin to boil and his eyes started to sting. He covered his ears, but knew the prince was still carrying on. He squeezed his eyes shut. The last thing he was going to do was let him see him cry.   
The prince stopped moving his hands, and seemed to slump forward. His shoulders shook, and Murdoc knew instantly he was crying. The small sobs he heard as he moved his hands from his ears only further confirmed it.  
"Stuart...are you okay?"   
"No," the prince whispered, looking at him with tears in his eye. "I'm not. My head hurts and I was just so mean to you but I...I just miss home so much, so so much. I'm sorry I yelled-"  
"It's okay," Murdoc cut him off, hesitantly putting an arm around his shoulder. Stuart leant into him and buried his face in his side. The bodyguard flinched at the sudden contact, and then slowly began to rub the other's back as he trembled.  
They sat like that for a while. The sky had become almost pitch black, like the prince's damaged eye, Murdoc thought sadly. It was cold but the stars were clearer. The bodyguard watched them, lost in his own thought, until Stuart sat back up again. He went to move his arm.  
"Don't," the prince begged, voice small, "don't move."   
He shifted closer to Murdoc, and leant his head on his shoulder. He was breathing heavily enough that he could feel it, and the bodyguard suddenly worried that Stuart could hear his heart hammering against his ribcage. He didn't know why, but being so close and touching the prince to comfort him left him feeling dizzy.  
"Murdoc, can I tell you something?"   
"Anything," he said, "anything, dearest prince."  
Stuart smiled sadly. He looked at Murdoc, and he could see something different in the prince's eyes.   
"I think I love you, you know?"   
Murdoc choked. He tasted blood and his vision blurred for a moment. It felt as if he had been waiting a thousand years to hear those words.  
And then the smell of alcohol on Stuart's breath brought reality back. He was drunk. He didn't mean it at all.  
"Sure you are," the bodyguard said shakily, shaking his head.   
"I mean it," Stuart insisted, "nothing has changed me quite like you have, and I think I love you, is that okay?"   
Murdoc looked at him again. Before him was everything he could ever want. He didn't want to feel alone anymore, like he had for years- he hadn't even realised how lonely he felt until Stuart looked at him, drunken haze in his eyes, and told him he loved him.  
"That's okay," Murdoc said. "But you're drunk, so I'm not saying anything until you're sober."  
"Can I ask you a favour?" The prince asked, taking a fistful of Murdoc's shirt and pulling him closer as if the universe depended on him paying attention.  
"Of course."  
"If they catch us, you'll kill me."  
"No!" He said, attempting to jump back, but Stuart's drunk grip was too strong.  
"Listen, I don't want to see you hung, and I don't want to have to live without you, okay? If they catch us, you have to promise me you'll kill me."   
Murdoc felt like he was going to throw up as he looked at the prince. Stuart had moved so close, that their foreheads almost touched. He seemed so sure, suddenly wiser than Murdoc had ever heard him be, as if he hadn't been drinking.  
As if he truly meant he didn't want to live without him.  
Murdoc would just have to make sure they didn't get caught.  
"I...I promise."   
"Say it."  
"I promise that if they catch us, I'll kill you."   
Stuart smiled so beautifully Murdoc forgot how to breath. His heart stopped completely. He felt so many emotions all at once, washing over him. Guilt. Pain. Anger....  
Happiness.  
Love.  
The prince pressed their foreheads together.  
And then, Stuart Pot kissed him, and Murdoc thought he was dying.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! (Song)   
> 10 whole chapters, lads!! I tried a new writing technique with this one and I think it helped a little. Let me know, feedback's always appreciated!! <3

Stuart had fallen asleep shortly after the kiss, but Murdoc couldn't stop thinking about it.   
He'd kissed him.  
And it had been wonderful. It had felt like the world had stopped spinning, that the clocks had frozen, and Murdoc had learned a little while ago that pivotal moments all happened in slow motion.   
The prince had pulled away first, giggling. He tasted like golden apples and ale. He looked at the bodyguard like he had just discovered the secrets of the universe because their lips had touched.   
"I really liked that," Stuart had whispered, looking at Murdoc with all the stars in his eyes. The one filled with blood caught the rising moonlight and the bodyguard had never seen anything so ethereal.   
The prince had fallen asleep before he could say that he liked it too.  
Noodle found them shortly after. Murdoc had crossed his legs and put Stuart's head in his lap. He'd been twirling his hair around his fingers and staring up at the sky. The girl looked at the two and waved in silent greeting.  
"He's asleep now." Murdoc, softly, as if raising his voice even the slightest degree will shake the universe.   
"I have a friend- a farmer- who will gladly let you and the prince stay," Noodle said, nodding, "I'm at the village watch tower tonight."   
The bodyguard looked at the sleeping angel in his lap. He touched his lip with his free hand and frowned.  
"Can I join you, just for a little bit?" Murdoc asked desperately, softly, glancing from the prince to the girl.   
"Of course, Murdoc," Noodle replied, as if they had just shared a great secret between them.  
Murdoc nodded. After a second of shifting the prince around, he managed to pick him up like a man with his bride after a wedding ceremony. Those had always been his favourite Royal arrangements- the weddings. The people saw it as a chance to show off their money, and the ceremonies were lavish to say the least. The alcohol was fizzy and expensive and the prince seemed particularly infatuated with the idea of such a large romantic gathering. Murdoc had never been keen on grand gestures.  
Noodle was silent as she lead him and his precious cargo into the centre of the village. People were shutting up shops, calling their children from the wooden doors on their houses, and Murdoc could smell food drifting through the windows. She walked ahead, leading them off the main path and down another, with neat stone slabs.  
A lone house stood just on the outskirts of the rest. It was squat, surrounded by a roughly constructed wooden fence. Behind it, Murdoc could see stretches of fields and a small stable. Crops he couldn't name grew in tall, neat lines.   
Stuart stirred in his arms. He twisted himself around, and his nose made direct contact with Murdoc's chest. He buried his head into the warm fabric and clutched a handful of his shirt, and then fell quiet and still again.   
Murdoc's side burned, from just above his hip to just below his rib cage. Walking made it worse, as did Stuart's fidgeting, but the bodyguard told himself that he'd felt worse and followed Noodle up to the door.   
She didn't knock. Instead, a huge smile crossed her face and she pushed the door open.   
Someone was sat in the corner of the room and jumped as the little girl entered. For a moment, he looked scared (which Murdoc struggled to comprehend, because he was built like the house he lived in and stupidly intimidating), and then a warm smile grew on his lips and he held his arms out. Noodle ran into them and he lifted her up. She squealed happily, and Murdoc was suddenly reminded that she was just a child.   
She seemed to remember them, then, and wiggled out of the mans arms. With the grin still plastered on her features, she gestured to the bodyguard and the prince in his arms. He was stood in the doorway and hopefully looked less awkward than he felt.   
"This is my friend, Murdoc, and his employer- Prince Stuart," Noodle explained casually. Employer makes Murdoc squirm. "They're on the run, and need a place to stay- just for a night- can they stay here?"   
"I suppose I do owe you a favour," he said, voice as warm as his smile, messing with Noodle's hair. "But they can sleep in the spare room."   
"Thank you," Murdoc finally spoke.   
Noodle smiled and bounced up to him. She placed a hand on his arm, and he only flinched slightly.  
"Murdoc, this is Russel, he's the villages harvestman."   
The man- Russel- nodded.  
"I feed the whole village, practically," he explained, "although the lil' darling here is a massive help."   
Noodle beamed.  
"Well, uh, that's...that's an important job," the bodyguard commented. He hadn't talk to anyone outside of a bedazzled ballroom or darkened bar in a while. His grip on Stuart tightened. "Thank you for letting us stay. Uh, this is Prince Stuart, y'know, he's already asleep- poor sod can't handle ale at all."   
Russel laughed, and Murdoc felt the tension drain from his body. The man was certainly welcoming in his general existence.   
"Well, he don't seem to weigh much, bring him in." He walked over to a piece of bright red hanging fabric and pulled it back to reveal a small room. It had a few wall torches, simple gardening tools, and a wooden bench that Murdoc supposed would serve as Stuart's bed. Russel led them in, grabbing at a pile of blankets and laying three over the bench. Gently, Murdoc placed the prince on them, and it broke his heart when he had to uncurl Stuart's fist from his shirt himself.   
When Russel and Noodle left him to put the blankets over the sleeping body, Murdoc bent down and gently kissed Stuart's head.  
He had been skeptical about leaving the prince there. Murdoc didn't trust people easily in any sense, but Russel seemed trustworthy, and he found himself believing in Noodle's judgement. It still made him feel dizzy- the thought of leaving the prince so vulnerable.   
But he could do it.   
Murdoc sighed, pushed some bright blue hair out of Stuart's eyes so he wouldn't panic when he woke up, and then forced himself to leave.  
\--   
The walk to the watch tower was short and cold, and Murdoc's side still burned. The staircase to the top felt 2000 stairs long. At the top, there was no fence to stop the girl falling off, just the night sky, the air, and the small rucksack of fresh bread Russel had given her before they had left.   
She sat on a rickety chair on the roof, and Murdoc sat on the floor to her left.   
"Want some bread?" Noodle asked, opening the bag and pulling out a loaf with a smile. The smoke that came off drew Murdoc's attention. "Russel makes the best bread for miles."   
He nodded, and she tore it in half for him.  
"Thank you," Murdoc said. "There was a lady in my village who used to make really good bread. I'd go there every Saturday evening, and she would have three loaves waiting for me. I spoke to her...I spoke to her almost every day."   
Noodle leant forward, clearly listening.  
"And then one day, she uh...actually, nevermind, I'm sure Russel's is better."  
Murdoc didn't want to think about the baker's wife at all. He shuddered and decided to blame it on the cold air.  
He took a bite of the bread. It was warm and filled with seeds. Perfect.   
"Russel's is much better."   
"It is!" Noodle agreed joyfully, her mouth also full of bread. It occurred to Murdoc that he hadn't eaten properly in days. "Russel is the best. He takes care of me sometimes. My parents left me with him, on his doorstep."   
She said it as if she had just excepted that fact. It didn't sadden her that her parents had abandoned her- it just happened and there wasn't a lot she could do.  
"I see," Murdoc said with a small nod. "Well, he's done a pretty smashing job raising you."   
Noodle nodded in happy agreement. For a while, they sat in silence, just enjoying the food.   
Then, she broke it.  
"Something has changed with you and the prince," Noodle stated, "something happened. What?"   
Murdoc swallowed. It startled him how well the 15 year old had picked up on things. She was frighteningly intelligent. At 15, Murdoc allowed his father to sign his life away, and had made it even worse by falling for the person who owned it- an admittance that surprised him.  
"I suppose something has changed," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. "He said he loves me."   
"That is good!"  
"And then he kissed me."   
"That's even better."  
She looked confused when Murdoc sighed sadly. He shook his head.  
"It's not good," he said. "It's terrible. He didn't mean it. He was drunk, and sometimes people do or say things that they don't mean when they've been drinking-"  
"Do you love him?"   
The questioned took Murdoc by surprise, although he knew it was a long time coming. He rubbed his hands together and tilted his head back to look at the sky.  
Did he love Stuart?   
He thought his laugh was the nicest sound in the world. He admired his ability to stay calm and just do as he was told. He felt lost when he wasn't by his side. His life seemed to lose meaning at the thought of his death. The thought of losing him made Murdoc feel like life wasn't worth it at all. He thought that he was handsome, and that the way his eyes have his emotions away was adorable, and that his smile was bright enough to shame the sun during it's highest hours.  
He loved him.  
Murdoc Niccals loved Stuart Pot with his whole being.  
And that was the most frightening realisation of all.  
"Yes," Murdoc replied hesitantly.  
"Then this is a good thing."   
"No, because he didn't mean it. And we can't be together anyway, because he's a prince, and I'm definitely not royal at all."  
Noodle looked at him like he was the stupidest person in the world. Given the current situation, Murdoc supposed that was a fair assessment. He had been very, very stupid lately. In fact, he had never been more stupid in his life.  
"That's bullshit," Noodle said, and her language surprised the bodyguard. "That's bullshit. He does not care. He loves you, and the ridiculous thing is that he's the only blind one, and yet you cannot see that he really cares for you. It's not a matter of class."   
"Everything's a matter of class, and he's only blind in one eye- which is my fault."   
"I do not know completely what happened, but he doesn't seem to think so."   
Murdoc frowned.  
"And, besides, we're both men. Not many approve of that kind of thing.  
"I don't understand that," Noodle said, and reminded Murdoc yet again of just how much of a child she really was. "Why does that matter? You love each other."   
Murdoc pulled the flask from his belt, and her face almost made him feel guilty. Almost. He took a swig and shrugged. He wished he had the answers.  
"Go back to the house," she said, "go and be with him when he wakes up. Talk about it. Tell him things. It will help."  
And, for the first time in his life, Murdoc did.  
He stood up, waved goodbye, and began his way down the stairs. The thought of leaving the girl there was alarming until he remembered that she must have done it all the time. He didn't know how, but he ended up back at Russel's squat house.  
"Thanks for the bread," he mumbled, and the farmer smiled at him, wishing Murdoc goodnight as he disappeared behind the curtain.   
There was Stuart, curled up like a sleeping cat, and smiling in his dreams. Murdoc stood still for a second and then decided that he didn't fancy the floor at all. His side was on fire and his head was hurting.  
He pushed Stuart over, and curled up next to him.   
It felt more like home than his own village or the castle ever did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!!  
> The beginning of this chapter has possible triggers:   
> \- mentions of sexual abuse   
> \- hints of rape of a minor   
> \- childhood trauma due to sexual abuse   
> !! The section of this part that includes those themes starts immediately, but the triggering section is rounded off by the symbol of '--'. If you cannot read the section, then, to summarise: Murdoc was being s*xually a**sed by the baker mentioned in a previously chapter, and has a nightmare wherein Stuart and him are making out, and suddenly he is back with the predatory woman. Please be safe!!

Stuart Pot was the best kisser in the whole world, and Murdoc had kissed a lot of people.   
He'd kissed him again when he got into the makeshift bed. The prince had woken up at the movement and, without a word, had wrapped his limbs around the bodyguard- like the tackling hug.   
And then he had kissed him again. So, so deeply, that Murdoc could feel his heart against his rib cage. It was the best kind of tender- so soft and full of secretive affection that he could feel himself melt. His hand slid onto the back of Stu's neck, his other around his waist, and pushed their lips and bodies together like his life depended on it. When Stu spoke, it wasn't slurred, and Murdoc had forgotten he had drunk. He sounded sober, was acting sober, and the general alcoholic pink tinge in his cheeks previously had disappeared.   
The bodyguard hadn't felt so alive in ages. He moved from Stu's lips to kiss a smooth line down his neck- soft, sweet, no teeth. Just soft pecks on the pale skin he now realised he'd always craved to feel properly. The prince laughed softly at the gentle contact, before he lightly grabbed Murdoc's chin and steered him back to kiss his lips.  
Murdoc could feel his own face on fire when the prince practically straddled him and leant right down to his ear.  
"You don't deserve this," he whispered, his voice too thick and sweet for the words carried with it.  
The bodyguard couldn't reply because he agreed. He didn't deserve it at all. He didn't even deserve to be alive after his stupid mistake. He opened his mouth to tell Stu that, until he noticed that the blood-filled eye had gone from deep black to an almost blinding white, and then he felt the prince's warm lips against his again.  
Except he tasted like blood. Like metal. Like sour pastry. Murdoc froze, and took his hands off Stu.  
"This isn't-"  
"Sh," the prince purred into his ear. He suddenly smelt like sour pastry, too. "Sh, Niccals, darling."   
Murdoc's skin crawled. The last person to call him that, with that tone, was-  
"Get off...get o-off me," Murdoc spluttered, wriggling to get away. Stu's grip was ridiculously tight.   
"Or what?" The prince asked. His voice was still sickeningly loving. "You couldn't save me from Paula, or that guy, and you certainly couldn't save me from you- what're you gonna do, teeny weeny Mudsy?"   
He laughed again, and Murdoc was suddenly nine; could smell the bread being baked, feel the tiles of the cold floor through the holes in his shoes, taste the sweet sugar biscuits that were her speciality, and feel her predatory stare as he gingerly touched every smooth wooden shelf full of jams and curds.   
"Fuck off! Get off of me, Stuart!" Murdoc spat, but he was trembling.   
"Sh, darling," the prince repeated as he stroked the side of his face with a smile, "if you're good, you can have a biscuit after. Cinnamon sugar. Made them especially for you, teeny weeny Mudsy. Would you like that?"   
"I DON'T WANT ANY SODDING BISCUITS, JUST GET OFF OF ME!"   
Murdoc forced himself to move. He was trained for that kind of thing, he told himself. He wasn't nine years old anymore, starving, craving any kind of connection or kindness from anyone. He didn't have to do anything for food anymore. He could handle it.   
Even if he felt like he was about to throw up.   
He kicked, so suddenly and harshly, that Stuart flew off him. Murdoc wasn't sure where he'd kicked, but it certainly wasn't the prince anymore. Suffocating darkness pressed around him instead. He opened his mouth to scream-  
\--  
And then he woke up. He was shivering, drenched in sweat. His sloppy fringe clung in lumps to his forehead. His whole body burned violently, and for a second he had no idea where he was.  
Murdoc had sat up and noticed someone next to him. They weren't at the castle, he thought, as the body turned. A flash of blue hair caught his eye and he felt his heart stop.  
"Murdoc, are you okay?" Asked the freshly awoken prince. His hair was tousled, soft and sticking up at the back. He rubbed his eyes and Murdoc held his breath.   
When Stu opened his eyes, blinking, the damaged one was black and deep and full of blood. The bodyguard sighed.  
And then he remembered everything, and practically fell out of the bed. He jumped away from Stu and straightened his clothes without even looking at him.  
"Hey, Murdoc, what's wrong? Why're you all sweaty?"   
"Wouldn't you like to know," Murdoc growled. He glared at the prince as he fixed his shirt (it had ridden up when he was struggling, and his wound had began to ache, yet he ignored it in favour of getting out of the room as swiftly as possibly.  
"What- Murdoc, I wanted to-"   
Murdoc slammed the door before Stu could finish his sentence.  
-  
The prince flinched as Murdoc slammed the door. He sat by himself for a few moments, just gathering everything inside him. The blankets that Murdoc had been wrapped in (although he only vaguely remembered the bodyguard coming in at all) were soaked with sweat and had been kicked onto the floor.   
He had felt him trembling to his left. He had heard him whispering, whining. But Stu had been so deeply asleep that he hadn't bothered to check.   
His eye hurt, the pain quickly spiking and crossing his forehead. He made a mental note that ale didn't seem to be the wisest drink for him and then began to recount the events of it's aftermath.  
The public house. Murdoc and the pretty waitress. A blonde woman- Marilyn? Noodle, dancing. Murdoc interrupting. Being dragged and forced to sit down. Staring at the stars for a minute and realising that there was more than just the castle. Staring at Murdoc for a minute and realising that there was nothing more than Murdoc. Saying he loved him. Making him promise that if they got caught he'd kill him. Kissing him. The taste of alcohol and something bitter but definitely Murdoc. Relaxing. Falling asleep. Fingers in his hair. Levitating. Soft blankets and a warm house. Light. Darkness. Sleep.   
That sounded about right. It meant that he would have to talk to Murdoc, although he didn't seem up for talking. He could hear voices- Noodle's, asking something, Murdoc's in response, and a third he couldn't place. With a small grunt, the prince forced himself to his feet. His back clicked painfully. It hadn't been the most comfortable bed- he actually preferred the night in the forest. Regardless, Stu began to get changed from the rucksack, and noticed his head felt light as his fingers brushed the abandoned gold.  
His crown. He'd taken it off. He remembered that- he didn't need it anymore. He didn't want it. It was just another barrier between him and Murdoc, regardless of his personal attachment. It put a bridge between them- between the rich and those who worked for them- and Stu decided suddenly that he hated that.   
So he slid it back into the bag and did it up without a second thought.  
"Ah, Prince Stuart, you are awake!" Noodle greeted cheerily as soon as the door behind him clicked.   
She was awfully perky, but he smiled at her anyway. Murdoc sat opposite her at a sturdy-looking round table in the middle of what looked to be the house's kitchen area. He didn't turn at the mention of the prince, and Stuart felt a pain in his chest to match the one in his eye socket. To Noodle's left sat the strongest looking man he had ever seen. He had dark skin and no hair and looked like he could squash Stuart in a heartbeat.   
"Ah, of course," he said, pressing his large palm to his forehead with a laugh, "you were asleep when you got here. You must be so confused. I'm Russel, a harvester here in Noodle's village. I owe her a favour and you guys needed a place to stay. You were pretty drunk last night, how are you feeling now?"   
The man- Russel- had a voice as smooth as silk. It was startling to say the least. Stu found himself hanging on to every word.   
"Yeah, uh, confused," the prince blurted, his eyes wandering to the back of Murdoc's head, "well, uh, thank you, Russel. And I'm okay. My head hurts a bit, but that could be the eye wound."   
Russel laughed, although Stuart wasn't sure why. He hadn't told a joke. Murdoc seemed to bristle at the injury's mention. The bodyguard cleared his throat without turning around.  
"My belts by the side of the blankets," he muttered, "your bottle of medicine is in there."   
"I'm fine," Stuart replied, surprising himself in his tone.   
He had every right to be upset, didn't he? Murdoc had been extremely rude, and knew that they had things to talk about, and had basically told the prince to fuck off. No one had ever told the prince to fuck off.   
"Well, I'm glad you're okay!" Noodle interrupted. "We're planning our next move- Murdoc here wisely suggests we keep moving as much as possible- and Russel is recommending that we follow the back stream at the end of the village. Apparently it'll cut two days from our journey, which I think is good, yes?"   
Stuart blinked, and then sat down- the only free seat between Murdoc and Russel. The harvester held out a plate of warm bread, which the prince would never thing he'd be so glad to see in his life, and he hungrily grabbed a few pieces. He nodded at Noodle with his mouth full and ignored Murdoc's glare.  
"That sounds like a good idea, poppet," Stuart confirmed, his voice muffled by the bread in his mouth. He'd never tasted such nice bread in his life. Not even the castle chef baked so deliciously.  
"Good! I am glad you agree. We will do that," Noodle said. She jumped from her seat and punched her closed fists into the air. "We must leave soon, to beat the other travellers. Sometimes bad people come up our lanes."  
"Bad people?" The prince questioned.  
"Yes, bad people. Bad men, bad women, bad children. They aren't human. Only Russ and I can see them- only people who have seen death up close can."   
Russel nodded. Murdoc leaned forward, seemingly interested. Noodle seemed happy to explain.  
"They're Obscurities- that's what we think, anyway. Like ghosts. They were once people, but they died on the paths- some on the way to war, some on the way to school, some on the way to work- and now they're stuck. They can do nothing but travel and try to sell you their wares. Never buy anything from an Obscurity, or, when you die, you will be forced to join their immortal travel on foot until someone buys whatever charm you foolishly purchased. We avoid them when we can."   
Stuart's mouth hung open. He had never heard of anything like that outside of the library. And who had Noodle seen die, and why had she been close enough to gain the ability to see the 'Obscurities'. Next to him, Murdoc hummed in consideration.   
"What kinds of things do they sell?" He asked after a second, leaving the prince confused as to why it mattered, because he certainly wasn't keen on meeting them.   
"Jewellery, mostly, or pretty flower crowns to some pretty girls. They're big on thin rope necklaces, laced with all kinds of charms. You'll be drawn to them, so be careful. You had better be leaving soon if you don't want a run-in- they much prefer the stream path to the public one," Russel explained, concluding with a clap of his hands that made Stuart jump.   
"Right," Murdoc agreed suddenly, pushing his chair back with a slam, "I'll get the bags sorted."   
-


	12. Chapter 12

Russel had them packed and ready to leave within the hour. He told Noodle he couldn't join them- the village people would starve if he just up and left, especially as winter was approaching. They needed him more than she did, but she was secretly still upset about not having her lovely farmer to journey with her.  
Apparently, though, she was not the only one upset.  
Once they had said their goodbyes and began to head west, towards the stream, neither the prince nor the bodyguard had said a word to the other. Noodle walked awkwardly between them until she gave up trying to figure out the problem. There shouldn't even be a problem, surely? From what Murdoc had told her, they had been going in the right direction. They liked each other, and now they both knew it- so why were they completely ignoring each other?  
She fell out of step with Murdoc and slowed down until she was next to the prince. His height surprised her a little, seeing as he had chosen to walk with stiff posture.  
"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice low.  
"I'm fine," the prince muttered, "my head's killing me, though."  
At the mention of the pain- or maybe at the idea of it killing Stuart- Murdoc's shoulders were brought to his ears. Noodle could see the tension in his toned back muscles.  
"Murdoc said he had your medicine-"  
"I don't want anything from him," Stuart interrupted, which she thought was quite rude. The prince seemed to struggle with his words despite the twisted look of determination on his face. "I don't need him babying me. I don't need to be looked after. I'm not a child anymore. He obviously doesn't care at all, seeing as he doesn't want to talk to me like the adults we're supposed to be. I'm not, uh, interested, in Murdoc Niccals at all anymore."  
Noodle looked at him and wondered if she had agreed to help the two stupidest men in the whole world (which was saying a lot, because her village was full of idiots).  
-  
So the big tough Prince Stuart Harold Pot didn't need nor want him anymore?  
Fine. Murdoc didn't care. Why should he care? He was stupid to let himself think that, maybe, they might finally be getting somewhere- that someone might understand him- that he might have a slightly happier ending (he wasn't convinced they were going to get much further from the castle before they were caught, but didn't want to mention it until he accepted the concept himself). If the prince wanted to be stupid and careless and get poisoned or trip over a chair or be murdered, then so be it. Murdoc could just punch him the mouth himself.  
His mouth. That tasted like public house ale and golden apples. That pressed against his behind a dingy watering hole miles from the castle he called home. That showed him that the castle had never been a home at all-nowhere ever had.  
A few hours passed, and he still hadn't spoke to him. Noodle and the prince walked a few steps behind. They talked and ate the bread that Russel had given them for the journey. Murdoc had declined, because his appetite had disappeared when he woke up drowning in his own sweat. They found the stream and he marched ahead without a word. He didn't see any of the Obscurities, and was oddly disappointed.  
Another hour crawled by. He was silently impressed with the amount of distance they had managed. Stuart then began to whine about his feet hurting. Always whining. Never complaining. Just whinging, like a child. Just as Murdoc was about to snap, he heard a squawk and felt the pressure of sharp talons on his shoulder.  
Cortez. He'd come back. Murdoc hid how pleased he was, but greeted the bird with a pat on its head. Stuart seemed to be trying to get him to leave the bodyguard's shoulder, and that stung a little, but Cortez just blinked and rubbed his head against Murdoc's cheekbones. At least he could still count on the bird.  
Walking started to become difficult. Murdoc could feel cold sweat on his forehead where his hair hung, and there was an uncomfortable layer of moisture forming between his shirt and his back. His palms felt sticky. His side was on fire and quickly spreading, clawing up his rib cage like some kind of predator. He stumbled, and his vision swam, so he grabbed the wound at his torso. The heat radiating from it was surprising. He stumbled again. Fire. Hot and quick and frightening up his side. Paralyzing his shoulder. Digging it's teeth into his thigh. Bringing the floor closer. And closer.  
The grass was damp and cool and Murdoc grunted as he fell.  
-  
When Murdoc's face collided with the floor, Stuart felt his throat close. They had watched him stumble but couldn't figure out why.  
Cortez squawked at them as the prince fell to his knees next to the bodyguard. He rolled him over, frowning at the bright red colour on his face and the sweat beads having races down his features. Murdoc was trembling slightly, too, and muttering words that Stuart couldn't make out properly. He grabbed the bodyguards shoulder and shook him in the hopes it was just a joke to get him to talk to him again. That sounded more like Murdoc.  
"Come on, Niccals, stop messing around." He tried to sounded demanding, using his prince voice, but he continued to mumble.  
"Let me," Noodle said gently, pushing Stuart away. The prince could hear the blood in his veins as he clumsily got to his feet. He'd never seen his bodyguard so weak before.  
That was when he noticed it. From a small distance. Blood spreading against black fabric. He pointed with a trembling hand.  
"I-It's his side," he blurted, "he g-got hurt there when my, uh, eye thingy, happened. They never, uhm, t-treated it because he was supposed....he was going to...they were going to k-ki-"  
"I've got it, Stuart," she interrupted.  
He watched her pull up the fraying hem of Murdoc's shirt and flinched at the sight of the wound. It was still open and oozing blood, among other things that made him feel sick. The skin around it looked almost like burns- bright red, blossoming more underneath the clothing.  
"It's infected," Noodle said, "he needs to get it treated immediately, or we'll... we'll lose him."

Stuart didn't like the hesitation. It sounded like she wasn't confident they could keep him alive. Like he was going to lose the most important person in his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Russel had to leave us for now. He'll be back, I promise- but this IS a 2Doc fic, so I can't have every character along for the journey, and he's very important to his village. But he will be here again at some point. Sorry this chapter is so short!!!!


	13. Chapter 13

Stuart thought Murdoc was dying.  
They picked him up, barely managing his weight between them (the prince hadn't thought about his muscle mass, just that the bodyguard was shorter). Noodle seemed too calm and Stuart could feel sweat on his neck. In their arms, Murdoc trembled, his eyes squeezed shut. The gash in his side was leaking red and yellow and seeping thick though his shirt. Stuart could feel the warmth of the infected wound against his hands. Murdoc had thrown his head back at some point and groaned loudly in pain, a mixture of tears and sweat rolling down his cheeks at a rate that made Stuart panic. He'd never seen his big, strong bodyguard cry before.   
They stumbled over tree roots with no clear direction. Noodle suggested that they turn back, but they had been walking for hours and even the prince knew that it was pointless to try and remake the distance.   
After what felt like hours of senseless steps, Stuart saw them. Little winged beings made of light. They were hiding in the lowest branches of the trees and seemed to be made of light. He could hear tiny bells when they began to approach. Two of them- one glowing pink and one glowing a warm orange.   
Noodle and him had given up, sitting heavily on another fallen branch with the shuddering bodyguard propped up at their feet until they could think of a logical next step- Stuart wouldn't accept Murdoc dying like that. Thinking about him dying at all made his stomach twist, but he deserved much better than an infected stab wound in the middle of the damp forest.   
"Is he okay?" One of the small creatures asked, the one radiating warm orange heat, hovering just above Murdoc's feet. From the look on her face, she knew that he wasn't okay at all. "I'm Alyssa, a woodland sprite, and I think we know someone who can help- this is Betty."   
Stuart looked between them, and then glanced at Noodle, who was biting her bottom lip so hard that he could see the blood rising. It hadn't occurred to him how she might be feeling- her and Murdoc seemed to have an odd kind of connection, and he was once again reminded that, while deadly, she was still a child.   
"Who?" The prince asked, voice wavering despite him attempting to hide his desperation to save his bodyguard.   
"Ace!" The sprite, Alyssa, giggled. Betty nodded earnestly besides her.   
"Who?" He repeated.   
"Our friend! A very powerful witch. He lives just a few hops from here, he'll be able to save your friend. He doesn't look very well at all."   
"Of course he doesn't!" Stuart snapped, gaining a surprised look from Noodle. The sprites' smiles remained unshaken. He shook his head. "Sorry, he's just...he's really important to me, I really want him to be okay."   
"We understand," Alyssa answered sweetly, "Ace will be able to help, I promise. We just have to move him!"   
Cortez appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He perched beside Stuart and eyed the sprites wearily. The prince panicked for a second, worried that the raven might eat the winged girls.   
Except their smiles grew wider, and Alyssa cheered. Cortez squawked and bounced over. Much to Stuart's surprise, he bowed, and the two glowing creatures hopped onto his back.  
"Come on, guys! Let's get this poorly man to the best witch doctor we know!" Alyssa shouted as Cortez flew above their heads. As she waved her arms, tiny orange sparks flew everywhere, like a small fire.   
Stuart had never seen anything like that before.  
-  
They split Murdoc's weight a second time and Noodle worried she would cave. She had only known the two men for a few days, but the idea of losing the bodyguard was scary. What would she do, she'd gotten too far to turn back, really- and what about Stuart? He had no reason to be on the run anymore. Would she end up having to take him back? There wasn't any way he would know how to get back to the royal castle alone.  
The sprites led them for a few minutes but it felt like hours. Murdoc began heavier, and he started moving too- thrashing like he was trapped in a bad dream. Noodle almost fell three times and could feel tears in her eyes. Eventually, though, there was a small path, trodden into the dirt by boot prints, that led to a small dark wood hut. It gave of a strange energy and she knew it had to be the right place.   
The sprites hopped off of Cortez and drifted up to the door themselves. It opened instantly for them and Noodle felt relief wash over them.   
The inside was stranger than the outside. There were no torches, but the ceiling was covered in tiny yellow lights, like the witch who lived there had captured a thousand lightening bugs and put them up there. They seemed to move like bugs too. One of the walls had a stretch of shelves, fully stoked with books and bottles. In the corner, a lone desk and chair sat, the desk littered with lose pieces of parchment paper and smaller bottles of bright liquids and, at it's centre sat a tall hat.  
"Hello?" Called a voice from behind the door at the other end of the room. Out stepped who Noodle could only assume was the witch.  
He was tall, but not like the prince, although the green hue of his skin reminded her of Murdoc. He held himself like the people her age in the village- slightly slouch. A bright smile had found its way onto his face. He had on translucent blue shades, a cape, and his hair pulled back the same way Noodle did hers when it was wet.  
"Good afternoon, Ace!" Greeted Alyssa, rushing forward. "We found this lovely group in the woods. Their friend isn't well, we thought you might be able to help?"   
The witch took a few steps forward and immediately his face fell. If a powerful witch thought it was bad, Noodle didn't have much hope. He didn't say anything, instead striding over to the desk and knocked off all the papers, put the hat on his head, and moved the bottles. Then he beckoned them over and had them place Murdoc's shuddering body on the desk.   
-  
Stuart didn't trust Ace enough to leave him alone with the vulnerable bodyguard. He sat at the chair, at Murdoc's head, and wiped away the tears of panic. Noodle seemed to back away.   
The witch didn't say much, but his face spoke volumes. The prince reached forward and grabbed Murdoc's hand. He seemed to squeeze Stuart's fingers after a second, and then he froze completely, going stiff as a board.   
Ace sighed above him, muttering something to himself. Stuart looked up at him and couldn't remember crying but there was definitely tears on his cheeks. The witch's stature seemed to change and he offered the prince a warm smile.  
"He'll be okay when he wakes up," Ace told him, "the infection from his wound was spreading through his bloodstream. You got him here on time- you're lucky I'm good at healing."  
Stuart nodded, unable to say much else, just as he had been unable to look at Ace as he worked.   
"Whoever stabbed him got him pretty deep, he'll have a nasty scar. I can mix him something for that, though."   
His voice was weirdly soothing. Stuart laughed tearfully, tasting salt. He rubbed his thumb over Murdoc's knuckles.  
"I think he'll like a nice, big scar," the prince told Ace, a small smile on his quivering lips.   
Ace laughed, too, and then Alyssa cheered about something and he wandered over, seemingly introducing himself to Noodle properly. Stuart looked at them and then back at Murdoc.  
He looked so peaceful, almost dead, which caused a slight bit of panic in the prince's stomach. But he could see his chest rising and falling. He wiped his eyes again and then leant forward.  
Stuart pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Murdoc's forehead, and then got up to leave him to sleep.  
-  
Murdoc toed the line between being awake and asleep and was aware of it, but not in a painful way. He felt floaty and oddly empty. It was calming, because he could only see colours, and none held enough significance for him to jolt awake. No past demons came to grapple him back into consciousness, Murdoc just felt a warmth up his side that was both comforting and relaxing, and a soft kiss on his head.  
He could think much clearer, then. The colours swirled across the backs of his eyelids- different blues, and blacks, and shimmering gold, which he knew meant something he was avoiding. He decided to go over what he knew before assessing what he didn't. Calm. Collected.   
Murdoc was on the run. He was wanted. He had been stabbed in the side and somehow it had healed. Nowhere really felt like home. He was with Stuart. Stuart was experiencing life outside of castles walls. He'd chosen to help him. He'd saved him. They had met a teenage girl and her farmer friend. The teenage girl was called Noodle and looked at him and Stuart like they were the stupidest people in the world.   
Everything traced back to Stuart. To his sharp cheekbones, his soft voice, the way his small Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke, how he tasted like golden apples, his silky pink lips.   
Another fact to add to the list, Murdoc supposed. Admitting it again didn't crush him. He didn't want to punch something. He wasn't filled with dread and doubt and blind panic. It was quite the opposite, actually; the gentle acceptance of it washed over him like a smooth wave, warm like midday sunshine, and Murdoc accepted it, finally.   
He loved Stuart Pot, and he was going to tell him as soon as he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I won't be writing from Ace's perspective at all, I don't think. Sorry. I'm not convinced of it being significant enough, seeing as he won't be doing the journey with them either. I'll slide him somewhere near the end, though.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little bit longer, guys. Not been feeling it lately. However, I've decided I've got to stop relying on motivation curves- especially when it comes to important things such as schoolwork and, to a degree, this fic (because, honestly, this has such a special place in my heart.) So, expect me to be adding chapters more frequently. Enjoy!

When Murdoc finally did wake up, he thought he had died.  
His side had stopped hurting but all he could see was light. White, blinding light, and he really did think he had died- or maybe had too much to drink at the public house in Noodle's village and had really imagined the whole thing. That was more frightening than the idea of being dead. The light was so painful that he squeezed his eyes shut as he sat up.  
Slowly, he opened them again, blinking once or twice until it didn't hurt anymore. He discovered that he wasn't dead, but he wasn't in the castle either, although he was shirtless. For a minute, he frowned, trying to think of the last thing he could remember. Why was his shirtless, somewhere he didn't recognise, and all alone?  
The woods. Burning, all up his side. Stuart wouldn't talk to him. Being angry about that. And then being sad, instead. More burning. Licking up and down his body. Red hot flames. The grass, colder, wetter. Nothing. Black. Colourful swirls. A kiss on the forehead. A promise to himself.  
Making a decision, finally, that would help Murdoc- to tell Stuart bloody Pot exactly how he felt.  
Which didn't explain the lack of a shirt, but was probably more of a priority.  
Murdoc sat up straight, blinked again, and found wherever he was to be empty. It didn't look threatening. Just messy. Covered in papers and bottles filled with bright coloured liquids and general mess.  
He could hear talking, though, through the window by his head. He stilled in an attempt to listen.  
"You're so funny, Ace." A laugh he knew well- Stuart.  
"Cheers, I try."  
Murdoc didn't recognise the voice, but he felt something inside him twist at how Stuart had laughed, about the smile clearly heard in the others voice. He felt around, swung his legs over the side of the desk he was on, and located his sword and several blades in a pile on the floor.  
How disrespectful. They were gifts. Privileges. With a scoff, Murdoc picked them up, stretched, and returned them back to their rightful places. He felt heavier. More grounded. Protected.  
Even from rejection.  
Another glance around the room (which was well lit from a source he couldn't locate) and he found the door. He almost tripped, but kept his balance and made it outside.  
The first thing he noticed was how light it was, which meant that he'd been out for at least a whole day. The second was Noodle, sat under a tree at the end of the path, talking to Cortez, and neither of them noticed him. That was okay.  
The third, and by far most infuriating thing, was Stuart, stood with someone, who had skin a similar green to his own and a hand on Stu's arm. A ridiculous hat balanced on the strangers head, charms that hung from it swaying gently in the whispering breeze. He was laughing at something the stranger had said. It looked like he was blushing. Murdoc felt his gut twist again, tighter. He frowned, and turned away.  
Maybe now wasn't the time, then.  
That, however, didn't do much to put him off. He rolled his shoulders and strode towards the pair.  
"Who the hell is this?" Murdoc asked. He hated how the defensiveness he was attempting to hide seeped into his voice.  
What he didn't hate was how Stu's face lit up when he turned to him, the biggest, dopiest grin adorning his features perfectly. The blush on his cheeks darkened beautifully. His hair fell into his face-  
And he hugged him. Again. Knocking Murdoc to the ground like he had when he'd gone to say goodbye. Except this wasn't a goodbye. It was a glorious, fantastic hello. Murdoc hugged back, his grip tight, as if letting go would be painful- and maybe it would. Stuart pressed his head into the crook of Murdoc's neck and didn't seem to notice he was shirtless as he dug his bitten nails into his back. It didn't hurt very much. He could feel Stu's breath against his bare skin, his long legs wrapped around his exposed middle. Almost a compromising position-  
"Ah, you're awake! Good, that's fantastic-how are you feeling?"  
The stranger. Stu untangled himself from Murdoc and stood up, his eyes widened as he noticed he was shirtless, and then his gaze dropped to the floor. Murdoc was definitely more concerned with who the smiling stranger was.  
"Who the hell is this?" He repeated, jumping up, hand going immediately to his warning blade.  
"A friend! A new one," Stuart said as he stood in front of Murdoc with his hands raised slightly.  
He loosened his grip on the handle, but kept his glare strong and steady, worsening when Stu wrapped an arm around the person's shoulders.  
"I'm Ace," he offered, seemingly intimidated- good, Murdoc thought. "Your....friends brought you here. I'm a witch, and you had an infected wound, so I fixed ya up."  
Why had 'Ace' hesitated on the word friends?  
"Don't trust you," Murdoc growled, although he ran a hand up his side and felt nothing but old, healed over scars. Almost impressive. He still didn't trust him.  
"Oh, well, okay-"  
"Why am I shirtless?"  
"The wound was on your side, I had to take off your shirt to get to it."  
"Stuart, is he telling the truth?"  
Stu looked at him like he was crazy, but Murdoc barely paid attention. Noodle seemed to have wandered over. 'Ace' (if that was even his name- sounded fake to him) seemed to be stuck between fear and anger. Stu moved towards him, gently prying his fist away from the handle of his blade.  
"Of course he is, you fool," he scolded, gently, although Murdoc could see the small smile he was attempting to supress. "Don't mind him, Ace, it's-"  
"Just his job," Noodle cut in from behind them, mischief in her eyes. She was grinning sarcastically at Murdoc. Stu laughed, softly, and then gave 'Ace' a sympathetic glance.  
Which was, frankly, ridiculous. Why did 'Ace' need sympathy? Murdoc was the one who almost died! Where was his gentle smile?  
"Exactly," Murdoc agreed, "so you just 'helped' me? Out of the goodness of your heart?"  
"Well, yeah-"  
"Impossible! What do you want? You better not have touched Stuart, or I swear to Satan himself-"  
"Woah! Okay, okay, Murdoc, please calm down, stop it," Stuart cut in, pressed his hands almost hesitantly against his chest, as if trying to physically remove him from an outburst. It wasn't his fault, really- but how was Murdoc meant to trust strangers when he woke up to them seducing his...Stuart, shirtless, in their house? Especially after last time...  
He glared at 'Ace', who only seemed to look quickly at the floor. Good, he thought, let him be scared.  
Noodle, on the other hand, seemed delighted, amusement written into her features.  
"I don't-"  
"You don't trust him. I know. You don't trust anyone," Stuart interrupted, again. He actually started to push Murdoc backwards. "C'mon, then, Mister. We'll sit over there until you calm down."  
-  
Murdoc followed him more willingly than Stuart had anticipated.   
He was glad he'd woken up, but slightly deflated at his reaction to the person who he owed it to- even if it was in Stuart's defensive, which was actually kind of lovely.   
As he was watching the scene unfold, Stuart reasoned that Murdoc's reaction was perfectly normal. He'd just been brought back from the dead. He supposed you were naturally inclined to a bit of a freak out, after all that. He knew he'd freak out.   
So, with that in mind, Stuart pushed Murdoc all the way around to the back of Ace's house. The witch had cut down a few trees and the stumps made perfect seats. They'd sat out there for breakfast that morning, Stu having slept on another small worktop with a blankets and without Murdoc's body heat. He'd watched him breathing almost all night, though. Just in case.   
Murdoc sat heavily across from him, blinking at him- as though he wasn't quite sure how Stu had gotten him to leave the conflict situation and sit down. He'd never tried to stop him before.   
But, in the same vein, he'd never seen Murdoc so wound up so quickly.   
"How long have I been out?" Murdoc asked. Always the first to break the silence.   
"A day, just about," Stuart answered, sitting opposite him. He let himself gaze curiously at the other. It was difficult not to stare at him.  
He'd never seen Murdoc without a shirt. He'd always been armoured and armed up to the eyeballs. It was odd, because he'd always gotten changed with Murdoc in the room.   
He was covered in scars. Slashes up his sides. Scratches across his upper chest. An angry looking stripe sweeping across from just under his left rib. A very, very faded one that disappeared past the hem of his trousers.   
What was most shocking to Stuart, however, was Murdoc's back. That was the worst. It was littered with thick, silvery slashes. Short and sharp and oddly pale against his skin. Like whip marks- which Stu had only seen because of criminal punishments. Too many to count. He wanted to ask about them, because he thought there was beauty to the marks. He'd never seen anyone so decorated. He wondered if there were more under the ink on his arms.   
Instead, he asked if Murdoc was okay.  
"I feel fine," he answered, still looking a little surprised. "Suspiciously fine-"  
"Murdoc, what is this about?"   
"What's what about?"   
"Why are you being to horrible to Ace? He save your life, you know, and your thanks is to accuse him of...touching me," Stuart explained, nervous, "don't say it's your job. You never get that worked up. I've seen you kill someone with a pocket blade with less anger."   
Murdoc looked at the floor and Stuart decided to wait for a reply. He folded and unfolded his hands. It was fine to let Murdoc take his time. Maybe it was a valid explanation- although sometimes his madness lacked logic. Not that Stu knew much about being logical in the first place-  
"I was jealous," Murdoc announced, like it pained him. He wasn't looking at Stuart.   
"What?"  
"I was jealous, Stuart. I woke up and heard you laughing, with his hand on your arm, and I was jealous."   
"Oh," he replied.   
That...made sense.  
"Why?"   
"Why?" Murdoc repeated with a frown. "Why, Stuart? Because I love you. I've loved you for a long, long time, and then you said you felt the same way, but you were legless, so I convinced myself you didn't mean it-"  
"I meant it," Stuart interrupted, sounded confident and completely sure of himself. "I meant it, Murdoc- truly."   
This seemed to make him more nervous. Murdoc folded his arms, covering the scars that decorated his skin. Stuart still didn't mention it.   
"I'd like to continue?" He asked, receiving a nod from Stu. "I convinced myself you didn't mean it. In all honesty, I've tried to stop loving you. It's not right, is it? You're a prince, and I work for you. I don't even descend from royalty."   
Stuart opened his mouth, to say that it didn't matter, but Murdoc raised on finger to tell him to hold on. Stu closed his mouth again, because he'd never heard such an emotional outpouring from Murdoc in all the years they've known each other.  
"We're both men, too. There were just...to many obsticles. And now there's more- I'm wanted for your endangerment and probably your kidnapping, too. I thought...I thought Ace was another obsticle."  
"Oh, Murdoc-"  
"I'm not finished."   
Stuart nodded for him to continue.  
"But, point is, Stuart, that I really do love you. You hang the moon. You gave up your life of royalty to save me, even though I deserved it. I let you down, and you still stuck by me- how could I not love you, with your smile that puts the sun to shame, and your skin that feels like stepping out of the shadows in summer, and your soft hair, huh?"   
Stuart stood up, not caring whether Murdoc was finished or not. He stepped over to him and bent down until their faces were level. He leant forward slightly, a hand either side of Murdoc's slowly warming face.  
Murdoc Niccals tasted like salt, and bread, and sharp red wine (which, suddenly, Stuart preferred), and it made him dizzier than any alcohol ever could.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be out by December.  
> I'm sorry. I know I seem to have abandoned this. I have NOT. Sometimes, I just need a break from certain stories, because I get a little frustrated.  
> To make up for it, I will be trying out a new update schedule- I want at least three chapters out a week. I hope you can all forgive me, but a break was necessary for my mental health. Here's the next piece of the story, enjoy!!! <3

Perfect, Murdoc felt, just wasn't the right word.  
After a good few moments of heart-pounding, star-spinning, blissful kissing, with Stuart's hands in his hair and his own placed on his slender hips, the pair forced themselves apart.  
Then, despite his face being bright red and the grin plastered on it almost too big for his face, Stuart brushed himself off. He held his hand out to Murdoc wordlessly.  
It seemed to take the bodyguard a few seconds longer to get over it. He accepted the hand and wobbled slightly when he stood up, dazed.   
On the way back over to the front of 'Ace's house (who Murdoc still didn't trust completely), they talked. Cleared a few important things up. However, Murdoc found himself taking his hand back as soon as his feet were steady. Stuart didn't show whether he was fazed by it or not. He wasn't sure why he'd done it.   
The kiss had been wonderful. Maybe he still hasn't recovered properly, he wondered. That must have been it. There had just been such an unexpected wave of panic when he realised their fingers were still intertwined. He'd snatched his hand back instantly, the regret just as immediate.  
-  
"How long?" Stu asked, looking at Murdoc with an almost mischievous grin.   
The silence was useless, the prince thought. They had to talk about it. He'd seen Murdoc look more comfortable drenched in blood. It took him a second to get a reply, but he wasn't very bothered- although the way Murdoc had broken their hand-holding made his stomach sink. He didn't show it, though.  
"Uh, a while, I think. A few years, maybe? Two or three- give or take. I'm not very sure when it started," Murdoc finally answered. Stuart had never heard him sound so unsure in his life. "What 'bout you, eh? Has the dashing, ruthless bad boy look and attitude always secretly been your thing?"   
There it was. Stuart's grin turned genuine. Murdoc sounded like himself again- thank the heavens. He gave his bodyguard's shoulder a light shove and laughed.  
"I think it only, uh, registered in me a while ago," he admitted with a small shrug. "But it's been there for a while."   
This seemed to satisfy Murdoc for a second. They walked in comfortable silence again for a few more moments until Stu saw the shadow of Ace's hat and just couldn't keep the question in anymore. He tugged on the strap of Murdoc's sheath to stop them.   
It was a good day, he thought, for something like that to happen. Something good. He figured they could use a little good, because his stomach was still knotted with homesickness and there was a spot of pain above his eye that had thumped sullenly since he woke up. Ace had offered a solution, but he'd declined in favour of keeping and eye on Murdoc.   
"Stuart? What is it?" Murdoc had asked.   
He'd apparently zoned out for a second. Stuart blinked, shook his head, and offered him a suddenly sheepish smile.  
"What happens now?" He asked, voice soft, looking down at their feet.   
He'd scuffed his boots terribly. And Murdoc's laces had come undone. It reminded the prince of how he'd always had to ask him to do his laces- Stuart had never learned himself.   
Murdoc took a second to answer again. He seemed even more uncomfortable with the situation. He shifted his weight in between both feet and looked at some point past Stu's head.  
"Uh, I guess, uhm, we're sort of together? Maybe? Jump right in, eh?" Murdoc offered by way of an answer. "Only if you want to, of course."   
If he wanted to?   
Wanted to?  
Stuart was practically ecstatic at the offer. He could see it now; them, together, trekking through the thick forests with Noodle and Cortez in tow, stealing kisses under the stars, holding hands through the trees, free and on the run and together. He lit up and nodded, and stretched out his hand again.  
But Murdoc didn't take it. He just nodded slowly, smiled slightly, and continued walking towards Ace and Noodle.  
-  
Uncomfortable?  
Murdoc wouldn't say he was uncomfortable with it.  
But he'd never, ever been /with/ someone before. Not properly. Not strictly. He spent a lot of his free time in brothels with women (and, for the right price, men), but they were just like him. Dirty. Didn't belong. Professionals, doing their jobs, earning their money- Murdoc was at ease there.  
But Stuart Pot was a whole other level. He was the Prince. Destined for the thrown. A head above him, but younger. It showed in how he marvelled at everything. Sweet. Too forgiving and trusting. A rich lover of storybooks.   
He was supposed to fall in love with and marry someone just as rich and royal and perfect. A girl. Pretty, in a lovely gown, who never put him in danger or risked his life or forced him from his family. Who Stuart never had to hurry down a secret passageway in the castle's library to avoid a hanging. Someone normal.   
And Murdoc had always been awkward about gentle touching, subtle intimacies, like hand-holding. He didn't know why. Perhaps he just wasn't used to it.   
It was supposed to make him feel good, he thought- admitting to Stuart how he felt, knowing the feelings were genuinely reciprocated.   
It didn't. He felt worse. He felt rotten on the inside, like he wasn't good for Prince Stuart. Maybe he wasn't.  
No, he definitely wasn't.  
They approached the duo- 'Ace' and Noodle- and found them sat on the grass, a hovering pitcher of pink-coloured lemonade between them. The way 'Ace' smiled up at Murdoc got right under his skin. The worst part was that he knew he was being ridiculous, because Cortez flew from the nearest branch and stood comfortably at the witch's side.  
Sickening betrayal, Murdoc thought.  
"Hi, Murdoc," he greeted, and then smiled at Stuart. "Lemonade, guys?"   
The prince, of course, accepted with a grin. He joined Noodle on the floor, sitting cross legged as a cup appeared out of thin air.  
Murdoc definitely didn't trust it. He shook his head but did actually sit down, although he moved himself away from the group, sitting just to left- Cortez bounced over. Stuart caught his eye and smiled, and Murdoc almost smiled back, until he opened his mouth.  
"Murdoc, how do you feel about staying here another night?"


End file.
